I'm pushing myself to share more of my unfiltered / unedited work, so I thought I'd share my raw, unedited piece here:
TITLE: I Guess This is Home
I settled in to the yellow kitchen rocking chair when I noticed them covering me from head to toe:
Little gnats all over my clothes, stuck in the velcro of my wrist guards, splattered all over my white Old Navy t-shirt, and enveloped in the beads of sweat rolling down my thighs.
I’d spent the hours after school rollerblading away from the house my mother owned, the one that most would have called my home. I weaved and glided my way through the streets of my historic colonial hometown. Past the towering, perfectly manicured homes that I assumed were filled with perfectly functioning families. Families so different than my own. Parents who knew when their kids' birthdays were. What grade their children were in. I wondered what their family dinners were like and how it might have felt as their child to just know that food would be provided for you. That someone would care enough to tuck you in.
I wove around town until it got so dark that I was more afraid of being outside than I was to be at home.
Home was not a place I wanted to return to or ever felt good in. It was a place I had to go back into because I had no other choice.
I picked the gnats off my skin and clothes and tore open another package of chicken ramen for dinner. I’d slurp the salty, carby goodness until my belly hurt so badly that it dulled the pain of whatever was coming next. I’d slip into bed and turn on the TV – my only companion in the house. I’d rest the best I could, knowing anything was possible at home during the night. Home. I guess this was mine.
I'm pushing myself to share more of my unfiltered / unedited work, so I thought I'd share my raw, unedited piece here:
TITLE: I Guess This is Home
I settled in to the yellow kitchen rocking chair when I noticed them covering me from head to toe:
Little gnats all over my clothes, stuck in the velcro of my wrist guards, splattered all over my white Old Navy t-shirt, and enveloped in the beads of sweat rolling down my thighs.
I’d spent the hours after school rollerblading away from the house my mother owned, the one that most would have called my home. I weaved and glided my way through the streets of my historic colonial hometown. Past the towering, perfectly manicured homes that I assumed were filled with perfectly functioning families. Families so different than my own. Parents who knew when their kids' birthdays were. What grade their children were in. I wondered what their family dinners were like and how it might have felt as their child to just know that food would be provided for you. That someone would care enough to tuck you in.
I wove around town until it got so dark that I was more afraid of being outside than I was to be at home.
Home was not a place I wanted to return to or ever felt good in. It was a place I had to go back into because I had no other choice.
I picked the gnats off my skin and clothes and tore open another package of chicken ramen for dinner. I’d slurp the salty, carby goodness until my belly hurt so badly that it dulled the pain of whatever was coming next. I’d slip into bed and turn on the TV – my only companion in the house. I’d rest the best I could, knowing anything was possible at home during the night. Home. I guess this was mine.
Sam, what a poignant and powerful piece—I was so moved to read it.
Thank you for sharing it and know you can always share your micro here. 🤗
a matter of time, 260 words
Love this title, Marie! Are you revising your micro as you go?
no, i'm not. i should pick one and revise it. i'm feeling a little overwhelmed these days to be honest!
Then table revision for now and just let yourself write!