A bottle named Delilah

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A bar in the living room and a bar in his beauty salon. Drinks at the Chinese restaurant on Ventura Blvd.

Lights that lit up the bar at Christmas time reflecting off gifts simmering gold, green and tall bottles of colorful liquid. Tall cupboards that he reached for, then pouring that rich golden juice.

Named at a bar from a book while she was in labor. Drives out with beers at the side. Music and laughter, screams and yelling while holding a hand and butter on bread.

Two faces, one happy and one sad over their red brick fireplace. He always reached for that bottle…named Delilah. Jazz playing on the radio.

I thought those bars would last forever; I was happily fooled. They are now gone forever only stinging my memory now!!


2 thoughts on “A bottle named Delilah

    1. Thank you… I tried to present images, in words, from the perspective of a child that was always observing and witnessing an alcoholic father. The Jazz is what comes with the innocence of a child loving their father…”so this life!” A mother and father and the other woman Delilah… we all know is alcohol.

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