My mom has been staying at my grandma's house for three days now.
Lying in bed, looking up at the peeling star stickers my mom hung on the ceiling, I am craving banana bread. I need it, but it's not there. When our bananas brown my mom always bakes them into banana bread. It's a constant, something I can depend on despite the uncontrollable changes of life. The bananas are beyond brown now, it's the last day to use them.
It's past midnight. I tiptoe down the stairs, trying not to wake up my dad. In the kitchen, I ponder the ingredients when it hits me; I don't know how to make banana bread. After all the times I've been entranced watching my mother do it, I just don't know.
Instead I sit on my counter. I confess, I used to hate banana bread. The strong taste and the lasting reek it had on the house. I told my mother it made me nauseous, but that didn't stop her.
Now, I want it more than anything. The bananas just sit there though, unaffected by my aching. They might sit there for a long time. The house, one way or another, will reek of bananas. And I will not throw them out. They've sat there this long, they can wait a little longer.
But I know these bananas will rot soon:
Because I am stuck.
Because I don't know how to make banana bread.
Because I don't know how to console my father.
Because my mom isn't here.
And because no one can find what to do.
Maybe I'll sleep it off?
...
I woke up to find the bananas gone. In the trash with my candies wrappers next to it. My mom wasn't coming home. So, the least I can do is take out the garbage.
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125,024 Literary Works • 672,762 Reviews
I think I'm just a food oriented person.
hi @angstyteen. i'm herb, here to review this short story.
it's clear that there's the sense of absence, this slow, grieving mourning of our speaker's mother. perhaps it is yours, or perhaps it is not. either way, the way you paint it crafts a beautiful childhood-longing window frame that i find impeccable. i love the usage of crave- craving banana bread, craving the memory.
and this knowing of mothers/banana bread/rot. the "i" here is aware of time and its passage- confession of pasts yet love of mother and the allowance of bananas rotting. i find that quite poingnant.
and the italics section! the accepting of loss-the acceptance of having no banana bread. and the lines following. - candy wrappers, so disposable, next to something so sentimental. a banana. amazing.
i feel there's more that i need though. a craving, if you will. motherhood seems so important to this, or at least family/mothers/maternal knowledge. recepies. traditions. if you were to ever revise this -- you could add something about those, creating a different layer of depth.
all in all, amazing work. really love mothers as a concept.
best & sincerely.
herb
Hi, it's Vera with another review!
So, I first wanted to point out, "It's a constant, something I can depend on despite the uncontrollable changes of life." I thought that was super meaningful. At first, I believed this would be a cute story given its title. The title fits this work too, given what it surrounds.
"Now, I want it more than anything." I love the italicized want because it emphasizes the want not need for it. Your yearn for it and I like that detail because it talks about how at first you hated it. It shows you want your mom and miss her in a way. You make connections throughout the story and I think it makes it that much better! You're a good writer. Overall, it's a good story with a good theme to it. Thanks for publishing it.