25th February 2026

 

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© Rachel Green February 2026

It's Frothy, Man

I complain that I'm thirsty

so we wait in line for a concession stand

where Dad buys a Cresta for me

and a Coke for my sister.

I'm fourteen, my sister twenty-one

and our dad is about to be fifty.

We do not belong here. 

We are at Alton Towers where families come

and though we are a family

we are also not.

This is the first summer without our mom

and Dad's doing his best

to connect with his kids

by renting a car for the week.

We have days out.

We can't go anywhere not nearby,

because of the dogs

and he won't spend a night away

from the bed he shared with her.

We avoid the rides

and look round the gardens instead.

beautiful cedars around manicured lawns

and snap a photo of the three of us,

each behind a different tree.

We don't talk much

there's nothing we can say

to bridge the divide between us all. 

I buy a tiny glass bottle as a souvenir

and on the way home

we hear Renaissance on the car radio

and the Northern Lights

will forever remind me of my dead mum.

© Rachel Green February 2026