For this prompt, you should write about one of your most difficult memories. For some people this is easy, cathartic. For me, it was difficult. You don’t have to share this one with anybody, but I’ll share mine here, and I’d love to read yours if you want to link it!
She was taking the kids and leaving, she said,
and this time she almost meant it,
I could see it in his face,
his mouth bent
like a broken thing,
tears caught in the three-day beard
around his jawline.
He reached out –
to us, I thought, to all three of us,
standing huddled in the doorway,
halfway gone already –
his hands opening and closing
like someone giving blood.
You can’t take away my son, he said.
You can’t take him away from me.
I was the daughter. A woman.
I was going to leave one day anyway.