December 19, 2009

Pear Wine on Stanton Street

Papa said the drunk locked his friend out of the trailer on a January night, woke in the morning to find him frozen on the porch–and set fire to the trailer as he sat on a couch inside.

I don’t know why things can’t happen faster. What steps cancel out, early on? The child’s one meal; the mother giving it; the father going for the doctor.

The stars are mostly like they were. Which means I just left the party yesterday, maybe. Cold makes light and breath precise, but questions cast about for purchase.

I gave him a coat, Papa said. But that was a long time ago.

posted by in fiction, memory | * | 18 comments 

comments

  1. Deron Bauman on December 19th, 2009 at 11:19 am

    Daryl.

  2. Rick Neece on December 19th, 2009 at 12:57 pm

    *sweet jesus*

  3. Michael Grant Smith on December 19th, 2009 at 1:59 pm

    Thank you, Daryl.

  4. Rick Neece on December 19th, 2009 at 5:32 pm

    How many times have I read this today? A thousand? Not yet nearly enough. I can’t nearly get through it without my eyes blurring to where I can’t read anymore. I read it out loud to Danny. Nearly choked on the last sentence.

    *jesus. jesus christ.*

  5. Deron Bauman on December 19th, 2009 at 6:48 pm

    yes.

  6. Sheila Ryan on December 19th, 2009 at 8:31 pm

    Rick Neece. You give us something we all need.

  7. Sheila Ryan on December 19th, 2009 at 8:33 pm

    To say nothing of you, Daryl, you.

  8. Daryl Scroggins on December 19th, 2009 at 8:55 pm

    Thank you my friends. I’m always happy if something of mine pleases the people I care for most.

    We are in Big Spring, on the way to El Paso. I’ll send pictures soon! Also–it’s funny how I never feel far from home when I can see what’s happening on Cluster. Cheers.

  9. Cindy Scroggins on December 19th, 2009 at 9:14 pm

    The Papa in this story is my Papa. He had many friends who lived on the edges. When I was 5 or 6, I answered the phone and it was a police officer, asking if there was someone at that number named Slam. Yep, I told him–that’s my Papa. Well, there’s a fellow here at the station asking for him name of Chapman. Oh, I said–Mr. Chapman. Thank you, Slam will be right down.

    Papa died in 2006. I miss him.

  10. Kathy Hilen-Smith on December 20th, 2009 at 8:14 am

    I love this thread.

  11. Sheila Ryan on December 20th, 2009 at 10:14 am

    Big Spring. Visiting Uncle Tump.

  12. Coop on December 20th, 2009 at 7:04 pm

    Well, Daryl, I tried to post the comment “Thank you” yesterday, but somehow it never arrived? So here goes again.

  13. Daryl Scroggins on December 20th, 2009 at 7:25 pm

    Thanks Coop. I’m glad to liked this. And I bet you even know where Stanton St. is in El Paso.

  14. Coop on December 20th, 2009 at 9:56 pm

    Stanton Street, you bet, in its various incarnations: the downtown section; the neighborly, ‘near the university’ section; and the ‘upper’ section.

  15. Rick Neece on December 20th, 2009 at 10:38 pm

    Cindy
    Here’s to friends who live on the edges. And to the friends who befriend them. Is it okay if I say I miss your papa, too? I would have liked to have met him. Mayhap I have, through you.

  16. Cindy Scroggins on December 21st, 2009 at 10:46 am

    Oh, Rick. Yes.

  17. Cindy Scroggins on December 21st, 2009 at 10:47 am

    Also, for any of y’all who don’t know this, the water in Big Spring, Texas tastes like cat butt.

  18. Lucy Foley on December 21st, 2009 at 12:40 pm

    So does my keyboard.

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