Something I wrote today to commemorate November 22, 1963.

I was sitting on the rug in front of the black and white television set playing while my mom was ironing my daddy’s shirts. She was sprinkling water out of a large green wine bottle with a spritzer on top. Steam rose into the air as the iron met the water droplets sliding easily across the white cotton material. I was fascinated by the rising smoke and was disappointed when she stopped suddenly and picked me up in her arms squeezing me tightly. She sat down in the comfy chair next to the tv set turning me around in her lap and stared at the man speaking. The tears rolling down her cheeks mimicked the man’s as he stated, “From Dallas, Texas, the Flash apparently official, President Kennedy died at 1:00 p.m. Central Standard Time; 2:00 Eastern Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago.”