My first memory was your face and smile.
Hair black.
You gave me love and watched me grow.
Just you and me.
Years went by and hair now grey, face wrinkled, but the smile remained.
The time came when I began to look after you.
Through the pain you kept that smile, only dropping it when you thought I’d turned away.
Your smile remained until the end.
More years passed and now my skin is wrinkled and body frail. I lay in the bed and shut my eyes, taking in deep breaths of air, that smells of disinfectant.
In my mind’s eye I see your face, not wrinkled but smooth, like the first time.
You smile at me and I smile back.
I whisper, “Mama I’m coming home.”
Jason Duck 2025.
This week’s micro fiction was inspired by the song, ‘Mama, I’m coming Home,’ by the Prince of Darkness, the late, great Ozzy Osbourne.
RIP Ozzy.
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