Union Avenue
Mom didn’t have to walk me to school that September morning for my first day at St John’s, the little Catholic school around the corner from our duplex. I knew the way, and I wasn’t going to hold her hand. As we approached the end of the block, I rushed ahead and reached for green, blue, and red swirls streaking the rain-spattered pavement on Union Avenue. “Look, Mom,” I said, “fallen rainbows hiding pots of gold – enough money to buy a new car, our own house, and no more hand-me-downs.”
Mom pulled me away, worried I’d get my newly polished school shoes dirty, “They’re just oil slicks from the leaky crankcase of Mrs. Giello’s old Chevy,” she said.
I didn’t want to let go of my dreams, but a gush of water from an open fire hydrant flushed away the colors, sending my hopes running along the curb and down the corner sewer grate before I could catch them.
Frank C. Modica is a retired teacher living in Urbana, Illinois, who taught children with special needs for over 34 years. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Dust Poetry, New Square, Sheila-Na-Gig, and Willawaw Journal. Frank's first chapbook, What We Harvest, nominated for an Eric Hoffer book award, was published in the fall of 2021 by Kelsay Books.