The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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This is apparently my mom’s favorite memory of me. She’s always said that I was the most gentle of the boys, and if I had to guess this is the memory that she always goes back to when she says that. I vaguely remember being excited that my mom and brother were able to make it to one of my games, and I wanted to give her a flower as thanks. In my defense, I’m relatively certain I was on defense, so it wasn’t really my job to be at the goal. Also, the flowers were pretty.

Doreen watched the gaggle of children, not caring about the action on the field. She didn’t even understand soccer. The only thing she cared about was finding him.

“Andrew, pass it to Amy!”

“Forty two is open!”

“Come on baby, go go go!”

The parents and coaches around her shouted to their children as the ball came closer to the goal. The ball was passed back and forth, each time Doreen looking to see if it was him. After searching the faces of every child bundled around the goal, Doreen realized he wasn’t there.

“Where’s Robert?” she said, leaning over to her other son, Tony. The thin red headed teen, draped in a baggy black AC/DC hoodie despite the warm spring day, grinned, pointing. Doreen followed his finger to the edge of the field, where a small, pudgy boy in a yellow and black jersey was crouched over a clover patch, a flower gripped between his fingers.

The Flower

Flag as Inappropriate
2006
Thorn Middle School Soccer Fields, Middletown, NJ

This is apparently my mom’s favorite memory of me. She’s always said that I was the most gentle of the boys, and if I had to guess this is the memory that she always goes back to when she says that. I vaguely remember being excited that my mom and brother were able to make it to one of my games, and I wanted to give her a flower as thanks. In my defense, I’m relatively certain I was on defense, so it wasn’t really my job to be at the goal. Also, the flowers were pretty.

Recorded by Robert Mulry on March 30, 2018
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