i.
My aunt used to tell me that an
Aster
is a star-shaped flower
and that my mom
loved that Astrid was so close to something so beautiful.
Aunt used to tell me the white lie
that Astrid meant "little star-flower",
that my mother adored me and called me her little
flower-face, open and trusting,
and that I was destined to be beautiful and shining,
a lie that I willingly swallowed,
desperate to believe.
ii.
I don't remember my mom, really.
I remember a certain scent, something like vanilla,
and the feeling of being held, really held,
by someone who cared.
But I can't remember her face.
iii.
When I was six, I listened to a news report three hours long,
consisting of only names of the dead and pictures.
When I was six, the twin towers fell.
So did many other things.
Including my mother.
She was one of the screaming people
trying to escape the flames by falling.
Aunt used to tell me a story of a woman who
loved her daughter, the most beautiful girl in the world, no, the universe,
but flew away to fight demons and evil spirits
to protect her. At the end, she would always cry and say that
the woman was my mom, and she would come back one day.
Deep down, I think I knew she was lying, even before I came home
that day after school,
but it was one of those lies you swallow because you don't want to know the
truth.
iv.
My aunt tells me that when my mom flew away
(she'd never say "fall"- that would imply something
uncontrollable, fatal, while "fly" implies a choice),
my flower-face crumpled, wilting-
a morning glory, shirking at the heated sun of the world.
I think I can see this, in the few photos of me left from Before
(my "Dad" threw away the ones with my mom in them)-
I was so happy, smiling. Innocent.
If I look carefully, I can see a look
in my eyes from photos from After.
v.
When I was eight,
two years After,
I came home from school.
My "Dad" was in front of the TV.
Only he wasn't "Dad" then.
He was just Dad.
Over and over, me in the doorway, holding my backpack,
midway through a question about supper,
he watched an old newscast, one part on an endless loop.
Planes smash.
Camera zooms in.
The announcer is on mute.
A woman, screaming, fell.
Her face looked familiar....
and then I knew.
My bag slipped to the floor,
and I ran from the room.
vi.
When I was eight, I stopped believing in fairy tales.
vii.
I also found out that Astrid meant
"Beautiful God".
I am neither.
viii.
When I was six, my mother flew towards Earth,
crushing her flower-faced girl on the way down.
She flew away, and she's
Never.
Coming.
Back.
Author notes
My girl's name was Astrid.
I thank God for my mother.
A contest entry
- Characterization - Female names ♥ by ladybug..
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... be harsh. Does it feel unfinished? Is the flower-faced thing overused?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
This was very emotional. I am really touched. Finalist for sure!
Thank you so much for your entry.
--Katie. -
"I don't remember my mom, really.
I remember a certain scent, something like vanilla,
and the feeling of being held, really held,
by someone who cared.
But I can't remember her face."
This is sad...but such a beautiful write.
nicley done.
thanks for entering.
-
This is an amazing write. Golden in my opinion.
Great composition and the visuals i recieved are
so vivid.
Joe
-
I love this poem... You are a brilliant writer, and there were points in here that I just wanted to break down and cry. Brilliantly-evocative & stunning!
You've done the name such justice... Astrid is my younger cousin's name, and she is beautiful, just like this poem
Well done, & good luck to you 
-
This was absolutely awe-inspiring. Your use of the name I gave you is simply amazing. I don't think anyone could have done a better job with Astrid as a name. You truly made me feel like you were Astrid.
My favourite part:
Planes smash.
Camera zooms in.
The announcer is on mute.
A woman, screaming, fell.
Her face looked familiar....
and then I knew.
My bag slipped to the floor,
and I ran from the room.
Thank you for entering. -
Your name is Astrid :]
Good luck!
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