A SUNDAY IN DECEMBER

A SUNDAY IN DECEMBER

As the curtain descends on Act One.

Bright lights illuminate the gloom in the auditorium.

My feet reach for the hard floor

and I leave the comfy, plush seat.

Into the winter’s bleak weak sunlit marble hall

I muse over my sister’s performance

As the lead in the high school play

(She’s only in her first year!)

The lace collar on my party dress tickles my neck

As I carefully examine my shiny, new Mary-Janes

For reprimanding scuffs.

The buzz about me becomes accented with

Discernable comments:

“…It’s in Hawaii…”

“…at 8am this morning…”

“…on a Sunday, too!...”

“BUT I HAVE FOUR BOYS!...”

I hear my mother say

As she dabs her eyes with a hanky

I touch her hand

Feeling something has happened that’s

Beyond my childhood comprehension

She bends down to my size for a face-to-face hug.

“War! War!....Pearl Harbor attacked!”

Echoing in my ears as I think

What about my wonderful, big brothers and ….

How can such a beautiful name like ‘pearl’

Mean something so scary as war?