Karen Trees

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Because I don't recollect much of my childhood, and because I still feel the need to pen down whatever I remember, I am writing sketches for a memoir. This is one of them.

Submitted: April 19, 2015

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Submitted: April 19, 2015



I took one big scoop of Mississippi Mud topped with hot fudge and sprinklers. He took one small scoop of Butter-Pecan with nuts. Together we sat at a bus-stop on St. Marks with enough space for a person to fit between us. My dad and I were meeting after 8 months, and we were meeting like this. I, pressing for more time from him; he, glancing at his watch in a rush.

I thought of covering the space between us on the bench, but I didn't move. My mom had asked me earlier if I knew where Dad was and I had said I didn’t. I thought about Aunt waiting at her house, and about Dad sitting next to me waiting to go back to her.

Then I started to think about the bus-stop I used to go to, back when I was in school. There was a small patch of trees with hundreds of Karen flowers leading up to it. These flowers had small pink petals and the smell of getting late to school. One day, I was walking to the bus-stop and it was all gone. Just a bare plot. A few men were replacing the trees with an electrical board.

“Do you really have to go?” I asked dad in my mind. The answer to this, I already knew.

© Copyright 2018 Madhuri. All rights reserved.

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