Worthing Flash

I promised a picnic for my son, Nanda’s first day of Kindergarten. Just the two of us. I met him at his classroom, said hello, and lifted him for a bear hug. I had our picnic packed into a bag slung over my shoulder. We walked the park green alongside a fence that ran the length of the school, possibly 200 feet or more until we found a cushiony patch of grass. From my bag, I pulled out a cotton tapestry and spread it across the lawn. Nanda sat facing the fence, and I sat with my back to it looking at him. I poured some lemonade from a thermos into two plastic cups. Nanda’s eyes were still fixed on the fence. “Well, tell me, how was your first day?” I handed him some juice. “Good.” He grabbed the cup and took a gulp, eyes not meeting mine, still gazing out at the fence or beyond the fence, maybe the schoolyard. On paper plates, I arranged tuna fish sandwiches, carrot strips, apple slices, celery with peanut butter, and cookies. Not even the cookies grabbed his attention. “What...

I remember seeing my first full moon. I wasn’t much older than five. Home before dark was a general rule and I was headed in that general direction. The air was warm and the sky although darkening was still full of color. I was walking through a grassy yard when I spotted a giant moon floating just above a neighbor’s dog house. A red painted classic house shape taller than the fence with three steps up to the dog hole. I don’t remember a dog. I climbed up onto the house and straddled the peak to watch the moon slide up into the sky. I could make out the man in the moon that neighborhood kids had mentioned but I was more akin to the witch carrying fire wood told in a story by my grandmother. She would joke that we came from a long line of witches. “Or was it bitches?” she’d say. Smiling, winking, laughing. “Hur hur hur hur hur,” she sounded. Apparently, it was one of my first words spoken as a baby. The only other time I heard the word bitch was when my mother was fed up with me. I...