{"id":2387,"date":"2023-07-18T10:54:40","date_gmt":"2023-07-18T14:54:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/?page_id=2387"},"modified":"2023-07-18T10:54:40","modified_gmt":"2023-07-18T14:54:40","slug":"family-photo","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/?page_id=2387","title":{"rendered":"Family Photo"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Patricia Moeller<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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Issue 16<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Flash Nonfiction<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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It was 1973, fall or spring, I can\u2019t tell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But a chill holds close the shades of beige, the color of indecision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A crease, like a lifeline across its palm, destined to cut the family short, as if time were endless but not enough for them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mother, not more than a child, clutches me. My head tilts, pigtails reaching in opposite directions, one towards her heart and the other, the sky, like I\u2019m unable to make a choice, not yet willing to fly but disinclined to crawl back inside. I\u2019m held to her belly expectant like I\u2019ll kick beneath her skin and she\u2019ll wonder if I\u2019m a boy or a girl, if I\u2019ll have blue eyes or brown, if I\u2019ll leave her like she left them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mom looks at me. I see him. He lingers in the background. \u201cI will leave,\u201d he says. \u201cI made a mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beyond the crease, where he was out of time, Mom and I daydreamed about how I\u2019d push her wheelchair through a retirement home, excusing ourselves as we passed by those too feeble to finish the race or too lost to know which way to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she\u2019s risen from her knees and walked away, her blue jacket fluttering in the wind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was fall when she said she loved me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was spring when I said she\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Patricia Moeller<\/strong> is a lover of all things barbell, weightlifting, canine, chemistry and family. Beneath the sunny Southern skies she teaches high school science, Olympic weight lifts with her family of boys to men and listens to the music of her favorite star. With a propensity for hyperbole Patricia\u2019s perfect day would include hours of uninterrupted story time followed by chocolate, espresso\u00a0and puppies culminating with a sweet submersion into family love.\u00a0<\/summary>\n

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\"\"<\/a>
Read “Ode to the Creases…<\/a>“<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Read “Seven Hour Layover<\/a>“<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Read “Questions Like This<\/a>“<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Patricia Moeller Issue 16 Flash Nonfiction It was 1973, fall or spring, I can\u2019t tell. But a chill holds close the shades of beige, the color of indecision. A crease, like a lifeline across its palm, destined to cut the family short, as if time were endless but not enough for them. My mother, not more than a child, clutches me. My head tilts, pigtails reaching in opposite directions, one towards her heart and the other, the sky, like I\u2019m unable to make a choice, not yet willing to fly but disinclined to crawl back inside. I\u2019m held to her belly expectant like I\u2019ll kick beneath her skin and she\u2019ll wonder if I\u2019m a boy or a girl, if I\u2019ll have blue eyes or brown, if I\u2019ll leave her like she left them. My mom looks at me. I see him. He lingers in the background. \u201cI will leave,\u201d he says. \u201cI made a mistake.\u201d Beyond the crease, where he was out of time, Mom and I daydreamed about how I\u2019d push her wheelchair through a retirement home, excusing ourselves as we passed by those too feeble to finish the race or too lost to know which way to go. But she\u2019s risen from her knees and walked away, her blue jacket fluttering in the wind. It was fall when she said she loved me. It was spring when I said she\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2387","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2387","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2387"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2387\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2387"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}