Lucy Baby VI

VI.
People always automatically think
That I grew up in
Unfortunate circumstances.

That isn’t true.

Daddy would always dress
In grey and black loose billowy soft work pants
And white shirts
And then he’d open his closet
And he’d let me choose a tie.

My favorite was the one
With the cartoon characters on it.
The ones from that TV show,
Loony Toons.

With the Tasmanian Devil
And Bugs Bunny
And Daffy Duck.

It was so bright
And vibrant
And silky smooth.

Mommy never let me choose her clothes.
She always looked beautiful,
Black skirts
and colorful shirts
layered under perfectly coordinated jackets
and tall, tall shoes.

She would let me wear them.
Black and brown and blue and white and gold.
I would stomp around the house
In every pair,
Sometimes a different shoe
On each foot.

I always ended up falling
On my butt
And crying from the shock
Of that hard wood or carpet beneath me.

Then Daddy would pick me up
And smile
And take the shoes
And say,
More to himself that to me,
In a while
I won’t have to help you out
Of these shoes.

I never knew what he meant.