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Poem

Like a fury character from a Saturday cartoon, 
my thumb pulsed into an inflating red balloon
when my older sis slammed the car door carelessly. 
I didn't realize it would bring such favor to me.

"What's the matter with you!" my dad sharply accused. 
For a quick moment I seemed a little confused,
but this time Dad's hollers weren't directed at me.
He coddled me in comfort, "Let me see, sweetie." 

I abashedly exposed my lowly thumb, 
nail dangling on edge, skin purple and numb.
Though for months it stank of stale blood,
I'm thankful for the cringe of the car door's thud.

For now Dad often asked me how I was feeling.
He seemed extra concerned to make sure all was healing.
Dad even treated me to my favorite ice cream.
He knew what it took to make a child gleam.

Dad sat by his new favorite upon the couch.
Into the crook of his chest I would slouch.
It took all of Kindergarten for my nail to grow back,
but then, Dad's love was something I didn't lack.

Too soon my thumb became as good as new.
It seems Dad's love was something that I outgrew.
I loathe the thought of pain, but I will mention,
I'd sacrifice my hand for some more of Dad's attention.

12-8-2020
STORY FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD Contest
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins

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