Pushing Past Life’s Struggles
written by: Franci Eugenia Hoffman
I was the oldest child, struggling in school; we moved, my 2 sisters and I, from town to town, city to city, never a place to call home. I tried my best because I wanted Mama to be proud of me.
Since the accident, Papa, well, he has had a hard time. Jobs were scarce for a wannabe musician. He wasn’t around much; always a roamer, always a dreamer. He sent Mama money once. Perhaps, out of guilt. Such a foolish and uncaring man he turned out to be.
Mama did some part-time work when able, but she had us to take care of. You know, honestly, I don’t know how she managed. But she always had a smile on her face and a song in her heart. Mama had long, flowing dark tresses, and her dark eyes were kind and forgiving. She was petite and pretty, and I always wanted to look like my mama.
I was a tall and gangly girl, taking after my papa: tall and thin with angular features. I towered over my schoolmates and was called hurtful names and constantly bullied. This was the third school I attended in a year’s time, and I knew I couldn’t give up. Mama would say in her southern drawl, “Dahlin, rise up above it!”
I didn’t have much time to myself. Late at night, when Mama and my sisters were sleeping, I would slip away to the attic. I wrote poem after poem, releasing my emotions, but I lacked confidence and kept my writing hidden.
The years went by slowly, with no word from Papa, and Mama, my beacon of light, became ill. We needed money for essentials and medical bills. I cried and cried. What am I to do? I sat at Mama’s hospital bed and read my poems to her, hoping for a miracle. Mama’s dimming eyes brightened, and she seemed to hear every word I read.
On a bright sunny morn, I walked into Mama’s room, and she was sitting upright sipping her favorite chicory coffee. She reached out and took my hand and said, “Dahlin, I’m so proud of you, and every word of your poetry speaks to me. One of the nurses overheard your readings, and she is contacting a publisher friend of hers.
“Well, the rest is history. No more will my feelings be silent. A woman, brought up poor and oppressed, I felt I didn’t have a chance to become somebody. But through my poetry, I was able to speak, and now, as a published author, my voice is heard loud and clear throughout the world. As my mama used to say, “Dahlin, rise up above it,” and I’m so glad I took her advice.
Mama and my sisters now enjoy the comforts of their forever home. And me, well, I’ve progressed from the attic to my own office. Every afternoon, we get together and sit on the front lanai, sipping sweet tea and chatting about anything and everything. And, Papa? I guess we’ll never know.
NOTE:
Based on the Prompt – Echoes of Unyielding Voices
- Pushing Past Life’s Struggles - March 31, 2026
- Winter’s Appalling Curse - December 1, 2025
- Beyond the Opening Gate - October 29, 2025
