Anna Cates
Drop in the Bucket
The well is deep . . .
Not long ago, someone asked me where I’m from. The question reminded me of my childhood in Maine: old teachers, pop songs from 1979—Abba to Styx—mosquitoes, potatoes, lobster, acid rain, 3,500 miles of coastline, the unmentionable parts of a sea squirt, Theresa, with the long, greasy hair, standing on the front lawn of her derelict house, the questions I had as a 10-year-old, walking to school:
Why is Theresa in the fifth grade at 14?
Why is Theresa pregnant in the fifth grade?
Why is Theresa smoking if she’s pregnant?
I thirst . . .
Theresa dropped out of school. Then another classmate met her demise. I can’t even recall her name, only that her religion didn’t allow her to wear pants, only dresses or skirts. Her brother, 17, shot her with a rifle. Accidentally. Just fooling around with the gun. Rough-housing. The bullet entered the back of her neck and would have paralyzed her from the neck down had she lived. Police apprehended him, wandering aimlessly down the Maine turnpike. I think the event made national news. I attended her funeral at the Church of God…
give me a drink
About the Author
Dr. Anna Cates teaches writing, literature, and education online and has published a variety of books (poetry, fiction, and drama) through Cyberwit, Prolific Press, Red Moon Press, and wipfandstock.com. Her short form poetry collection, Love in the Time of Covid, won an Illumination Book Award. She resides in Wilmington, Ohio, with her two beautiful kitties.
Wow! So very interesting how one remembers the past, like a puzzle missing a few of the edge pieces, but enough to get the picture and derive meaning.