CARDINAL PERSPECTIVES

Poetry

Original Poetry Submitted by GSCC Graduate Audrey Bowen

Becoming Mother, Still a Daughter

I am a daughter and a mother

I wonder what my child thinks about while his eyes explore

I hear his little coos

I see his milk stained lips

I want to place the world at his fingertips

I am a daughter and a mother

I pretend to know what I'm doing

I feel the sun heat up my belly

I touch the clouds above my head

I worry that time could never provide me with enough

I cry as anxieties take over my mind

I am a daughter and a mother

I understand that even small mountains take big efforts

I say, "everything is alright."

I dream about our life, in the future

I try to take it day by day

I hope to stop holding my breath

I am a daughter and a mother

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(Below)Original Photography Submitted by GSCC Student Ryan Kelly

FLASH FICTION

Original Fiction Submitted by GSCC Student Destney Howard

The Bittersweet Story

“Come on Serinity, just hear him out this time.” Aminah begged. After an hour of Aminah begging, Serinity finally agreed to meet with Doyle. Aminah looked at her with satisfaction in her eyes. “Great, I’ll tell him you agreed - what time works best for you?” Aminah asked. “Well, Aminah I would like to not see his face at all.” Serinity grumbled. “No way you’re backing out of this.” Aminah threatened. “This man hassled me for weeks for this moment, you better show up, or else.”

“Fine. Tell him 7pm Thursday.” Serinity said rolling her eyes. Serinity and Aminah had been best friends for almost five years now and she couldn’t figure out why Aminah was adamant about her meeting with Doyle one last time. Aminah would normally encourage Serinity to stay away from Doyle, but what she didn’t know was that Serinity out of curiosity. Thursday came, Serinity finished the last of her homework and checked her phone, realizing she had two missed calls from her best friend and a few ridiculous messages about how she would lick her face if she was even just a minute late on her scheduled meeting with Doyle. Serinity rolled her eyes and called Aminah back.

“Hey girl hey.” Aminah answered.

“You better not lick my face.” Serinity said with a chuckle.

“Well, you better not be late. Why didn’t you answer my calls? If you hate me, you can just say that.” Aminah said.

“Stop it Aminah. I was doing homework, and my phone was silent and charging in my room. I have been doing homework all day in my living room.” Serinity said, chuckling at her best friend’s ridiculousness. “I’m getting ready to leave now Aminah. I promise I won’t be late.” Serinity said, grabbing her purse and keys. “Aminah, I licked my door.” Serinity said as she locked her door. That was a running joke between the girls from an autocorrect message. Serinity got in her car and started the engine. Serinity had a million questions and a pit in her stomach. She was nervous, because the last time she had seen Doyle he was abusive to her and then later tried to gaslight her. Why would Aminah want me to meet with a man like that?

“Hey, he’s different now Serinity. I’ve talked to him and ensured he had been going to his therapy sessions” Aminah said, her voice traveling through the car speakers.

“Yea. I just don’t see why I have to see his face again after everything that has happened between us.” Serinity said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Alright Aminah, I’m here I’ll talk to you afterwards, okay?”

“Alright, love you bye.”

“Love you bye.”

Serinity hung up with her best friend and as she looked up from grabbing her purse, she saw Doyle walking out of his apartment to meet her halfway. His walk was a little faster than it would normally be. Serinity could tell he couldn’t wait for this moment of redemption. Serinity managed to get out of the car and meet him halfway on the sidewalk.

“Hey. Thanks for coming.” Doyle said nervously.

“Don’t thank me, Thank Aminah.” Serinity said with irritation.

“I did already, like a lot.” Doyle said still nervous.

Doyle opened the front door for Serinity, and she walked in with him on her heels. The moment they got to his room he tried to close the door but thought better of it when he saw the fear in Serinity’s eyes. He nodded, noting the several reasons he gave her to be frightened and left it open. “Okay, how is school going?” Doyle said breathlessly.

“It’s school.”

“How have you been.”

“I’ve been.”

“Could you at least answer my questions with more than two words?’

Serinity stood up ready to leave.

“Hey, wait, I’m sorry. Look, I know I messed up, and if I can go back and change things I would. You know I would.” Doyle said grabbing Serinity’s arm.

Serinity looked up at him and folded her arms waiting for him to finish his apology. He continued: “I really am sorry for what I put you through. I know “sorry” doesn’t change my past actions, but can we at least be friends? That’s really what I wanted in the beginning. I didn’t mean for things to get so…. complicated between us.” As Doyle wrapped up his apology to Serinity, her mind ventured into the various memories of both good and bad times she’d had with Doyle. “How did we get here?” Serinity asked, tears stinging her eyes. “I thought you loved me, and it broke my heart to find out that I was just an attachment for you. I cried so many nights wishing you could just see me, be there for me, support me, or even just for you to tell me that you loved me without it resulting in other things. Why? Why is my heart so confused? WHY AM I SO CONFUSED?” When Doyle saw Serinity break down in full sobs, asking rhetorical questions, he caught her before she could hit the ground and placed her on the bed as she cried. He didn’t really know what else to do besides hold her and stroke her hair. The only voice that could be heard bouncing off the walls of his room was hers. He kissed her forehead. “I did see you, and love you, it just wasn’t in the same way you saw and loved me, Serinity.” He said with a hint of sadness.

Serinity stopped crying and looked up into his beautiful light-brown eyes. “I…. I” She stumbled over her words while she thought about how to respond to what he’d just said to her. She couldn’t respond. Couldn’t get angry or frustrated. It seemed as though all the emotions she felt for the man lying next to her had vanished. The high that she had been on all this time finally dropped her back into reality. “I’m never going to see you again, am I?” she asked as the last tear fell from her eyes. “No ma’am, you’re not.”

Serinity woke up in a cold sweat as if she was in Doyles’ room in the middle of summer and took a second to process her dream and she began to cry. Her chest caved and she grabbed her journal to document what she just dreamt. Her tears weren’t tears of sadness but of happiness and joy that the cycle she’d been stuck in with Doyle was finally over.

*********************

Original Fiction Submitted by GSCC Graduate Hannah Blevins

Roses for Rosemary

Only Rosemary’s closest friends called her Rose.

And right now, there was nobody to call her by that name.

The people that had been her closest friends were all back in her old town, back in her old life. She had to leave them all behind and completely start over, and since that day she had spoken to very few people. She spoke to an attorney about her inheritance from her deceased uncle and the realtor while shopping for her new home, but both had called her “Miss Ross”. A formal business exchange, rather than a friendly one.

A few people from the new area had introduced themselves to her, however the meetings had gone no further beyond introductions. She told them her name was Rosemary Ross, and that is exactly what they called her. Rosemary, Miss Rosemary, or some also called her Miss Ross, though it was mostly the older folk that used that name.

All these names were correct. Each of them was a proper way to address Miss Rosemary Ross, and yet she didn’t like any of them. When she was addressed this way, she never felt offended, but she also never felt acknowledged. When she was Rose, she felt like she had a friend, like she was at home with those she held close to her heart. But Rosemary just felt lonely. Rosemary was an acknowledgment and nothing more beyond that.

Her spirits down and in need of a boost, she took note of the flower shop across the street from the store front she had recently purchased. No one had ever bought her flowers, not even the close friends that once called her Rose. Calling the number that was displayed on the shop window, she ordered herself a bouquet, a dozen roses for Rosemary.

No, not Rosemary. Because when the man on the phone asked for a name, she told him “Ross” before she could think better of it. Bitterness settled deep in her gut at the sound of her own last name. Ross. Miss Ross. Formal. Professional. Required.

The next day she walked into the flower shop to pick up her bouquet, there was a name plate on the front counter that read “Philip”. The man she assumed was Philip was busy tying a ribbon around a flower arrangement. It was a beautiful display of flowers, probably the prettiest she had ever seen.

“Be right with you, ma’am,” Philip called over his shoulder. Rosemary wondered if his friends ever called him Phil. He finished with the ribbon only seconds later and put the arrangement to the side. “Sorry about the wait. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to pick up some roses I called about yesterday,” she said. “Under the name ‘Ross’.” Again, there was that bitter feeling.

“Oh yeah,” said Philip, “They’re in the backroom. One moment, I’ll go get them.”

He disappeared through a door behind the counter, however the door remained open behind him, and he continued talking while he fetched the bouquet. “I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, speaking a bit louder so he could still be heard. “Are you from out of town?”

“I just moved here last week,” she informed him. “I bought the store front across the street. I guess that makes us neighbors.”

“I was wondering who had bought that old place,” he said, reappearing in the doorway holding a dozen roses wrapped in decorative paper. “Pleased to finally meet you, Miss Ross.” He extended his free hand, a friendly gesture, but an unfriendly name.

“Please,” Rosemary said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, “call me Rose.”

Philip nodded, dropping her hand, and reaching for something under the counter. “Ah-ha!” He exclaimed, having found what he was reaching for, a beautiful glass vase that he carefully placed the roses inside. “Here, Miss Rosie, the vase is on the house. Consider it a housewarming gift.”

Rosemary couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. Rosie was new. It was new, and yet, she decided that she already liked it better than Rose.

Rosie. She repeated the name over and over in her head after she left the flower shop, vase full of roses in hand. Rosie. Miss Rosie. A new nickname to help start her new life.

It was the first time in weeks that Rosemary didn’t feel so alone.

Cardinal Perspectives

Poetry

PHOTOGRAPHY

FLASH FICTION

Cardinal Perspectives

Poetry

PHOTOGRAPHY

FLASH FICTION

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