Ben Underwood
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Stories (2)
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She has always been Nana
To my Nana, When I met you, I was sixteen and you were 17. We were young and foolish, I more than you. My arrogance was mixed with blissful ignorance and the desire to maintain. However, you weren't arrogant, and whatever you didn't know, you sought to fill that gap of knowledge and remain to this day unsettled by the idea that you could be doing more, but aren't. The first time we talked, you told me to call you Nikki, and for about a year I think I did, then the nickname came, Nana. Over thirty years later, and all the bumps, trials, mistakes, pain, doubts, and twists life has thrown at us and you are not only Nana to me but now to your grandsons. Most grandmothers don't get the distinction of the title Nana till their grandchildren are born, but you got it as a gift from your baby sister, 16 years younger than you, who mispronounced Nikki. Nana, she called you, and ever since it has stuck in my mind and heart.
By Ben Underwood4 years ago in Families
Fire in the night
You wouldn’t think that a town in a state halfway down the east coast would be so cold tonight. But here it was, it was freezing, the damp parts of the earth iced over. The breath of anything moving and hustling in the clear air created misty puffs of condensation. “What did that boy call it? Smoke, that’s right the Rennard boy called it smoke, but it wasn’t. I know what smoke is, smoke comes with fire, and fire brings the burning.” High in the tree the old barn owl contemplated the night, slowly rotating her head. “Burning,” sense memory of smoke and heat filled the owl’s mind. She had lived in this area since she was a chick, seen many people come and go, but she had only seen one house fire.
By Ben Underwood4 years ago in Earth
