UnfortunatelyLit By Karen Crawford
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We stand at the door, a threshold between us. You, this awkward shuffle. Me, a young girl holding herself tight, trying to force your hand. You pull me close. It’s a dad hug for the ages, and I breathe you in, instantly overwhelmed by the scent of Jasmine. It makes me gag, like mama’s holy Florida Water. My stomach aches when you let me go. I picture Jasmine in your bed, all baby bump and clingy. I silently pray. Pray to mama’s patron saints that you’ll leave them at the altar.
Karen Crawford lives and writes in the City of Angels where she exorcises demons one word at a time. You can find her on Twitter: @KarenCrawford_
Why we chose this piece: We see second person a lot in our submissions and it’s hard to pull off, but Karen does it wonderfully. She brings this girl’s voice and her tense relationship with her father to life. The play on words with “the scent of Jasmine” made us clap our hands, and it’s amazing how she packs one short paragraph with such intense longing. This girl finds comfort with neither her mother nor her father’s girlfriend; her father means everything to her, but he can’t be what she needs, either. Ugh, just crushing.
[…] You can read another piece she published with Unfortunately, here. […]