FRANCIE
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
Today is my eleventh birthday, and I received my wish, sort of. I wished no one would remember. Mother tried to bake me a cake, and I just finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. The good news is that she is now sleeping.
Our father did not come home one day three years ago, so we are a family of four. My brother Franklin is in the third grade, and my sister Tasha is in first. We get by well enough.
Some of my friends, yes I have friends, still call their parents mommy and daddy. It seems I have preferred mother and father for as long as I can remember. It has the ring of wholesome stability, don’t you think? You may wonder what fifth grader uses words like wholesome and stability? The answer is Francie Nelson!
Mother hurt her back working on the assembly line and we now collect disability and receive food stamps. You would be surprised how far you can stretch your money if you are careful like me. I am a whiz at finding bargains at the grocery store, and my specialty is two for ones. You would be amazed at the daily choices you can find by walking slowly down each aisle and looking at both sides. Also, I must admit, it helps if you are not picky about what you eat. Franklin and Tasha are willing students, and I impart the best of my knowledge. One more tip, be willing to ask for “day olds” and not just bread, but vegetables.
This brings me to another word I appreciate, pride. I find it interesting when words can have a double meaning. I feel pride that I can take care of my brother and sister, but I do not let false pride block me from asking for help. Why would you be embarrassed to ask for the free school backpack, or skip the free breakfast or lunch just because you had to present a voucher rather than pay cash? Is it pride or anger I feel about caring for my mother, I will try to address that in a moment. My school counselor encourages me to write down my feelings, so this is why you are getting an earful, and hopefully the positives and not just the complaints. I have tried to get Franklin to start a journal, but I can understand that he is a little young. Also, he said he would have to write that I boss him around. That gave me a good laugh.
While on the subject of my little brother, I will share a little more so you can better understand him. He is small for his age, and this often leads to what some might call bullying. As you would hope, I always stick up for him, but I also try to help him stand up for himself. I encourage him to win with his brains, and we read together every evening. In third grade you do not get letter grades but just pass or fail. Next year, I will fall over dead if he receives anything but A’s, as the kid is smart. Of the three of us, he is the most sensitive and needy of our mother’s love, which is often in short supply for reasons you will soon learn. By the way, I often call him by his nickname, Bud or Buddy.
I appreciate my school counselor treating me as a young adult who has gained more maturity than most my age. I mention this because of a phrase she recently used in a discussion, “the elephant in the room.” As you might guess, now is a good time to talk about mother. If I start by saying I might be a pharmacist as an adult, you might get my drift. Give me an exam on Oxycontin, fentanyl transdermal patches, Ultram, or Vicodin, and I will pass with flying colors. I am well aware of very serious interactions if they are mixed. I understand the danger of alcohol and sedatives with mother’s array of daily “helpers.” In high school I will take civics to learn more about our government, and how citizens can get actively involved. I say this because I am bewildered at how mother gets such absurd amounts of these drugs. I have tried flushing them down the toilet, hiding them, threatening to take them myself, but nothing works. The reality at our house is an endless supply of pain killers to keep mother imprisoned within her narrow existence. I said earlier, pride or anger in caring for mother? The answer is anger and sadness. You might understand why anger and sadness, because I understand this has become a disease, and I truly believe this is not the life mother wants. I can often hear her crying in her room, and I observe her efforts to try to care for us, like her attempt to bake my birthday cake. Sorry, I just had a good cry myself.
I promised you positives, so here is a good one. Our local community center has a neighborhood track team called the Rockets, and Francie Nelson is a runner. Seriously, I have had dreams where I start running, and do not stop until I have run past every sight I have ever read about. To say it a better way, I am still running when I have to get up in the morning, or awake to nature’s call. You cannot officially join the Rockets until the seventh grade, but the coach lets me run with with the cross country team, and says he has high hopes for my contribution to future team wins. If Coach can feel good about me, he should be ecstatic about Tasha in six years, as that one has lungs like a gazelle. Often, the two of us end up at the track, running laps until we collapse on the grass, laughing our heads off as we look up to the wonder of the sky.
This leads me to another Francie positive, I love raptors, and my absolute favorite is the red-tailed hawk. We have several families in our neighborhood, so I can find one or two soaring at almost any time of the day. Perhaps it is their freedom, or their fierceness. Add in their speed and grace of movement, and I’m sure you will agree with me. I have an art elective at school, and I am working to improve the quality of my red-tail drawings which grace our bedroom walls.
Perhaps I can add more at some future time, but now I need to get something started for dinner. As I inferred, we are okay, and I’m not the only fifth grader who has her hands full with life. If you happen to be the prayerful type, think of us as it would be appreciated. My mother’s name is Gloria, and please say an extra prayer for Franklin. Francie
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
Today is my eleventh birthday, and I received my wish, sort of. I wished no one would remember. Mother tried to bake me a cake, and I just finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. The good news is that she is now sleeping.
Our father did not come home one day three years ago, so we are a family of four. My brother Franklin is in the third grade, and my sister Tasha is in first. We get by well enough.
Some of my friends, yes I have friends, still call their parents mommy and daddy. It seems I have preferred mother and father for as long as I can remember. It has the ring of wholesome stability, don’t you think? You may wonder what fifth grader uses words like wholesome and stability? The answer is Francie Nelson!
Mother hurt her back working on the assembly line and we now collect disability and receive food stamps. You would be surprised how far you can stretch your money if you are careful like me. I am a whiz at finding bargains at the grocery store, and my specialty is two for ones. You would be amazed at the daily choices you can find by walking slowly down each aisle and looking at both sides. Also, I must admit, it helps if you are not picky about what you eat. Franklin and Tasha are willing students, and I impart the best of my knowledge. One more tip, be willing to ask for “day olds” and not just bread, but vegetables.
This brings me to another word I appreciate, pride. I find it interesting when words can have a double meaning. I feel pride that I can take care of my brother and sister, but I do not let false pride block me from asking for help. Why would you be embarrassed to ask for the free school backpack, or skip the free breakfast or lunch just because you had to present a voucher rather than pay cash? Is it pride or anger I feel about caring for my mother, I will try to address that in a moment. My school counselor encourages me to write down my feelings, so this is why you are getting an earful, and hopefully the positives and not just the complaints. I have tried to get Franklin to start a journal, but I can understand that he is a little young. Also, he said he would have to write that I boss him around. That gave me a good laugh.
While on the subject of my little brother, I will share a little more so you can better understand him. He is small for his age, and this often leads to what some might call bullying. As you would hope, I always stick up for him, but I also try to help him stand up for himself. I encourage him to win with his brains, and we read together every evening. In third grade you do not get letter grades but just pass or fail. Next year, I will fall over dead if he receives anything but A’s, as the kid is smart. Of the three of us, he is the most sensitive and needy of our mother’s love, which is often in short supply for reasons you will soon learn. By the way, I often call him by his nickname, Bud or Buddy.
I appreciate my school counselor treating me as a young adult who has gained more maturity than most my age. I mention this because of a phrase she recently used in a discussion, “the elephant in the room.” As you might guess, now is a good time to talk about mother. If I start by saying I might be a pharmacist as an adult, you might get my drift. Give me an exam on Oxycontin, fentanyl transdermal patches, Ultram, or Vicodin, and I will pass with flying colors. I am well aware of very serious interactions if they are mixed. I understand the danger of alcohol and sedatives with mother’s array of daily “helpers.” In high school I will take civics to learn more about our government, and how citizens can get actively involved. I say this because I am bewildered at how mother gets such absurd amounts of these drugs. I have tried flushing them down the toilet, hiding them, threatening to take them myself, but nothing works. The reality at our house is an endless supply of pain killers to keep mother imprisoned within her narrow existence. I said earlier, pride or anger in caring for mother? The answer is anger and sadness. You might understand why anger and sadness, because I understand this has become a disease, and I truly believe this is not the life mother wants. I can often hear her crying in her room, and I observe her efforts to try to care for us, like her attempt to bake my birthday cake. Sorry, I just had a good cry myself.
I promised you positives, so here is a good one. Our local community center has a neighborhood track team called the Rockets, and Francie Nelson is a runner. Seriously, I have had dreams where I start running, and do not stop until I have run past every sight I have ever read about. To say it a better way, I am still running when I have to get up in the morning, or awake to nature’s call. You cannot officially join the Rockets until the seventh grade, but the coach lets me run with with the cross country team, and says he has high hopes for my contribution to future team wins. If Coach can feel good about me, he should be ecstatic about Tasha in six years, as that one has lungs like a gazelle. Often, the two of us end up at the track, running laps until we collapse on the grass, laughing our heads off as we look up to the wonder of the sky.
This leads me to another Francie positive, I love raptors, and my absolute favorite is the red-tailed hawk. We have several families in our neighborhood, so I can find one or two soaring at almost any time of the day. Perhaps it is their freedom, or their fierceness. Add in their speed and grace of movement, and I’m sure you will agree with me. I have an art elective at school, and I am working to improve the quality of my red-tail drawings which grace our bedroom walls.
Perhaps I can add more at some future time, but now I need to get something started for dinner. As I inferred, we are okay, and I’m not the only fifth grader who has her hands full with life. If you happen to be the prayerful type, think of us as it would be appreciated. My mother’s name is Gloria, and please say an extra prayer for Franklin. Francie
RICHARD SWAIN