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Move over, big momma

Big MamaMARLENE POTOURA | A Celebration of Writing

LAE - I looked around and couldn’t see an empty space. Big momma occupied three quarters of the last double-seat in the bus. 

It was obvious that the other passengers did not want to share that one quarter with big momma.

I looked at big momma.

Goodness me, a generous amount of body, decorated with accessories.

Big momma had huge arms that dangled with bracelets, bangles and gold rings.

She had her hair up in a bun, decorated with frangipani flowers.

Her flowery attire did not hide the rolls of blubber beneath.

She wore white slippers and had rings on her extremely large manicured toes.

Big momma attracted more stares from the other seat occupants, with her gold rimmed glasses, her flash of poppy red lipstick and her whole solid being.

She looked up at me and smiled. Gracious me, she had gold tooth fillings too.

“Come sit, sweetie,” Momma patted one quarter of her seat.

As I sat down, I caught a whiff of Elizabeth Arden.

But big momma was a better cushion, than that rickety old bus’s seat.

Comments

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Robin Lillicrapp

Well done, Marlene.
You elevated the mundane to the memorable in a few bold strokes.

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