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?