Age 10 — Mom’s red geraniums don’t smell sweet like a flower should. I don’t like them.
Age 20 — When I see a red geranium I remember my mother. She liked their bold color.
Age 45 to present — I live close to the cemetery where my folks rest. I pot red geraniums near their headstone each spring, and they survive the summer no matter the weather, with no care.
Age 68 to present — I plant red geraniums at home so I can enjoy the memories.
After I pass, I hope my children plant them for me.
Note: This week, we were experimenting with how many ways we could write red. Thus, multiple micro flashes go in different directions.
Written in response to Charli Mills January 2, 2024, prompt at Carrot Ranch Literary: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the color red. It can be a descriptor, a setting, a character, or a metaphor. How far can you get in a story by expanding “red”? Go where the prompt leads!
Sue Spitulnik 