2013 -- 6.1 (Fall) Poetry

Figment Memory

by: Brandie Hyde

My little feet dangle
as it’s terribly difficult to sit still when one is so young, and packed with
energy.  Our booth is situated against
the large pane glass window with lettering on it that was backwards and
forgettable, yet unobtrusive as it did not interfere with my view of the
sidewalk, nor street, nor cars or anything else opposite of our position.  The distance between where the bench seat
ended and the edge of the sparkled table top began is barely breached by lunging
forward with folded arms against the shiny metal rimming to protect by lip and
chin from injury.  The balancing act in
trying not to fall off of the seating, yet still reach the plate of
five-and-dime diner fries with the puddle of ketchup on the small white yet
scratched grey plain saucer.  We, my
mother and I, arrived by way of Greyhound Bus, from someplace far away where
the family disapproved of her going and in an attempt to foil the plan, refused
to baby sit me and thus I accompanied my mother on this particular adventure.  As we leave, and taking my small hand in
hers, she instructs me “this never happened.”


Bio:  The past two years have been, to put it politely, challenging.  Essentially the end of life as I previously knew it.  The return to college life following more than a decade hiatus has been, well… let’s call it colorful.  I managed to complete the requirements to receive my AA this December.  With one goal down, another looms on the horizon as I begin the baccalaureate program here at SCF for Public Safety Administration in the Spring.