My mother had many virtues. Almost too many to count. She held us when we were affiliated. I would come home from school my nose bloodied and my upper lip encrusted with dirt from a ditch that was the geographic midpoint between school and home, and my memory fresh with the image of a threadbare denim jacket emblazoned with an Iron Maiden Killers patch walking away in vanquishmebt. I remember the mud of those ditches and the clamour of the intersection as the kids dispersed. Cars briefly idling without alarm before they went on about their day. Pale blue sedans that would ease into nearby driveways. The doors would clap closed and shoes would scuffle in the door. Mother would be there to hold me as I pretended that nothing had happened, to see through my flimsy shield. She left me in the living room, cross legged on the floor, putting dad’s old records on the turntable as she made dinner for the family. . . . #records #yellow #art#fiction #amwriting #writersofinstagram #writingprompts #oilpainting