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- By: Brea Hagan
- My mother leaving Greenville. It is late autumn now, the smell of wood burning, the potbellied stove like a warm soft hand in the center of my grandparents' living room, its black pipe stretching into the ceiling then disappearing. So many years have passed since we last saw our father, his absence like a bubble in my older brother's life, into a whole lot of tiny bubbles of memory. You were just a baby, he says to me. You're so lucky you don't remember the fighting or anything. It's like erasers came through her memory, my sister says. Erase. Erase. Erase.But now, my mother is leaving again. This, I will remember.
- Erase. Erase. Erase.
- Why I chose this specific poem: I chose this poem because it kind of reminded me of my dad. Back in late autumn of 2015 in November my dad had passed from lung cancer but also a major heart attack. I was in my own house getting told late that night the worse news I have possibly been told. In the poem it had said So many years have passed since we last saw our father, his absence like a bubble in my older brother's life, that pops again and again into a whole lot of tiny bubbles of memory. and I can sort of relate to this because it has been almost 7 years, since my dad has been gone. The bubble has popped again and again inside of me creating a whole bunch of memory's with him. I've told my sister she was just a baby when he was alive and she didn't really see the arguing like I did. Me and my sister both try and erase the arguments even though they weren't that bad. Besides that whenever it says But now, my mother is leaving again. I can't fully relate to this because it was my father leaving, since he would come home from the hospital then leave to go back for some radiation or anything else he needed to keep him alive. But this is why I say This, I will remember. because one day he left and never came home even though it wasn't his fault.
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