Sally Eslinger Poet Narrative

A Parenting Tale

***A Parenting Tale***

He must’ve been
Just barely fourteen, but still off as
A ninja filling a pillowcase
   with chocolate on Halloween.
Although through all other days 
   his ken was an avocado green,
That is actually a deep 
   nubby, buttery green.

The older teens, always girls, 
Stood leaning on the fenders of their parent’s cars,
Twirling their lemon curls around
Still child-small index fingers
While foot tapping to some unknown 
   Time until night cloaked our court.

Then, with a wave of the girl’s arms,
   our son collapsed to fit out through 
Keyholes or go with the autumn mice
Under the garage door, to slink
From one girl’s car to three, where
Not one pair of pink lips cou answer
   me if her parents knew her where?

Hardly a surprise then one night 
   near ten p.m.,    
When authority alarmed, fist-knocking 
   on our front door.  Police?
What is the, aaa, problem, sirs?”
“You’ve a son we’ve gotten word of.
Is he home?”  Yes.  Well, yes.  
   Certainly, yes. It’s bedtime…

 He comes down, cool from his room to
Join us in the hall, looking face to face,
    so sliced-olive green.
The officers, wasted not a second.   
“We’ve a warrant for a missing girl,
   A friend of yours said you knew.

Have you seen Anna Joe today?”  No.
“Have you had company tonight?”  No.
 “Have friends up there with you?”  No.
Then to us, “We’d like to go up to look.”
I was mother-so-proud assuring, “He
   doesn’t lie. I’d’ve heard company.”

Within a minute, the parade came down
The stairs: handcuffed girl, officers
   with son between them and coming to
Stand by me, supposing it was safe.
I screamed, “You lied!  To the police!
To us!”  Then, I swung my arm back

And forward again with force from
Knowing how he’d dealt us into danger.
I smacked him hard and loud
    in front of the police in that
Scrapbook moment of parenting the idiot
Events of a bean-green teen, which also
   ended musical car nights on our
   court.

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(c) sally young Eslinger 2/6/22

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Michelle Faulkner February 9, 2022 at 8:18 PM What a sad story, but even so you bring it to life with your descriptiveness (is that a word?) I really like 'sliced olive green' and 'scrapbook moment of parenting' - nobody is perfect, including parents~

Regina Mcintosh February 6, 2022 at 4:29 AM Wow!!! Such a tale! Is it true? You did a great job writing this. God bless you, Love, Gina Sally Eslinger February 6, 2022 at 6:38 AM Hi, Gina! Yes, totally true. Sadly so. Still amazed the police just silently watched after I slapped him so hard. Same soon. as in my poem “Our Soldier Son.” Good to see you! Thanks for your time to read and comment.