P is for potted roses…

p4pThere was a little girl who

could read lots of words before she went to school.
But she couldn’t always make sense of the words if they were in a row.

One day she was in the car with her big brudder and her mommy.
When they were stopped at a light she saw a billboard that said

Potted Roses for Sale


She knew what potted meant and what roses were and what for sale was saying.
She really didn’t understand why someone would sell potted roses.

Her daddy was sometimes potted and nobody liked it.
Mommy would say, “Your father is potted again.”
This was not a good thing.

So here was somebody advertising potted roses for sale.
Who did they think would want potted roses?

The little girl had lots of questions;
What did roses drink to end up potted?
Did they act differently potted than when they weren’t potted?
Did they get silly and dopey or loud and obnoxious?
Were they happy and laughing or sad and crying?
Did they stand up straight and pretend they were fine
or did they get wobbly and stumble around on their roots?

Did they get hang-overs and what were they like if they did?
Did they refuse to get up and if they did get up
were they droopy and mopey or loud and angry?

She asked her big brudder and mommy about the potted roses.
All they did was laugh until they cried.

The little girl was very confused.
Nobody laughed she when asked questions
about her potted daddy.

Image: freedigitalphotos

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This entry was posted in A to Z Challenge 2014, memories, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , by Patricia. Bookmark the permalink.

About Patricia

I am a woman of a certain age who was raised a Yankee and now lives in the South. I am still a Yankee but a "softer" one. My catkid and my friends are my family. My conservative friends think I am a liberal while my liberal friends think I am conservative. I am not talking politics here...I have no interest in politics! I laugh a lot, cry sometimes, rarely angry, not really shy but an introvert for sure, pretty open but do have some secrets. Ok, that's me...or some of me anyway.

12 thoughts on “P is for potted roses…

    • Being a child of an alcoholic, even a “functioning” one, is confusing. At least it was for me and I did want to understand what was going on. It wasn’t all bad…it was just what it was.

    • Thanks Carl. I think adults don’t realize that the small children of alcoholics are confused about what is happening in the family and really want to understand.

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