Banana Splits

I remember sleeping in the middle of the bed, my
Tiny arms and limbs stretched out as far as they could go
But never reaching the edges. Feeling enveloped by
The luxury of comfort, new houses, the balcony on my
Father’s new apartment. Children learn how to feel and
I was not sad until I was told to be sad.
I remember the counselor calling my name in school,
Walking down the hallway when all of the other kids
Were still in class and sitting in a small office room with
A handful of my peers also from single-parent homes.
They gave us ice cream because we were part of the
“Banana Splits.” I remember my mother’s anger when I
Told her, her rage that they had not asked her permission,
My innocence when I said I was really happy that I got
Ice cream at school today even though I didn’t really know
Why. I remember singing in the backyard on a
Play date. The words to the song were, “Erica’s not
Going to have a dad.” This time, with patience, our
Mothers explained that’s not how divorce worked.
I remember sitting on the front steps with my mother,
With the stone dog, and she told me that families look
Different. My mother didn’t know how radical she was,
How radical I would be in criticizing this damn hetero-
Patriarchal system, that some families mix and match
Until they’ve been unprecedented in history because we
Are constantly marching forward. Having reached the
Horizon without even knowing because the world
Continues, we walk in a sphere, in circles, but

Inspired by today’s NaPoWriMo prompt.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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