by
Veronica Haunani Fitzhugh
“My Ma’s dead.”
He waits to hear more.
“She’s a vet. And, they gave me her–”
And, all of a sudden I am there. I am sitting in the folding chair borrowed from the V.A. in my borrowed, ill-fitting suit smelling of trash bags. Every time someone squeezed me in a hug a waft of Hefty would make me want to itch and throw up.
And, all of a sudden I am there. I am sitting in the folding chair borrowed from the V.A. in my borrowed, ill-fitting suit smelling of trash bags. Every time someone squeezed me in a hug a waft of Hefty would make me want to itch and throw up.
The chaplain kneels, tells me the flag is on behalf of a grateful nation, and holds up the red and white triangle for me to take.
I just want to punch the flag out of his hand and run away.
Just run till I get to a place where my Ma is alive frying Spam and eggs with too much soy sauce.
Just run till the pain moves from my heart to my lungs.
Instead, I just sit there, and he places her on my lap.
First Featured at http://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experience-in-literature-poetry-and-art/2014/05/24/judiths-last-song-by-veronica-haunani-fitzhugh/
Veronica Haunani Fitzhugh earned her BA in English Literature from the University of Virginia but is more proud of the friendships she earned through her social justice work in Charlottesville, Virginia. She has been in several anthologies online and in print. Her main blog is Charlottesville Winter at cvillewinter.wordpress.org.
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