The two young girls roll forward across the cracked cement, sitting small, swallowed, inside the seats of their dead grandfathers wheelchairs. They are racing one another from the back wall of the empty garage and down to the end of the driveway. Their laughter, like gaps for air, echo’s back and forth, up and down, bouncing off every plain surface. The girls do not think about the fact that their uncle died in this garage, but they know by this point. Somebody told them. This garage is a void empty rectangular prism. As far as the girls can see no car is kept here and very little storage. The girls do not think about the fact that their mother’s brother had killed himself. That he had suffocated on car fumes in that empty space between cement walls. Their mother tells them that this garage had once been a cool hangout spot when she was a teenager. They would smoke pot here and play loud music. The walls, back then, were covered thick in spray paint. Drawings and words, each inch held its own graffiti signature. Those walls have painted over since it happened. The blank white. The girl never saw the spray paint the same way they had never met their uncle. All that was before.
I remember the thick earthy smell of the creek by my grandma’s house. The tall grass, mold and mud. There is a small park. A little island of grass surrounded by a sea of suburbs. And the creek is part of the park. My mother grew up in this neighborhood. She and her siblings had all played here. All four of them. I could see them in my mind racing bicycles. Swinging. Sliding. See-saw.
She showed us the creek where she once caught crawfish and made paper boats battle. I saw there, jutting out of the ground in violent protest, a broken mass of cement, covered in ancient spray paint, crumbling away and dissolving into nothing via the passing of time. The progressive current. Erosion.
Kate E Lore is the pen name of Katherine Isaacs. She is a recent graduate of The Ohio State University.
Kate won honorable mention for a flash nonfiction featured in Switchgrass review for their 2017 publication.
Kate currently does a monthly comic strip for 1870 magazine of Columbus. She has self-published two of her own comic books, one of which was nominated for a S.P.A.C.E award.
Kate has a blog and art portfolio website at: http://kateelore.com/