Third Place: Hunger by Lissa Pompos Mansfield

On the drive to school, mom turns down the volume of the radio.

She tells me a story. Grief sits at the base of her throat.

Her words are measured, heavy, and full: of meaning, memory, and regret.

I shrink in my seat and whisper “Why are you telling me this?”

She sighs and shimmies, straightens up to her full height. “Learn from my mistakes so you don’t make the same ones.”

I digest this. She has portioned out her pain into bite-sized bits. She lays the lessons before me, each an offering.

My mind is sated, but my belly growls.

I have not yet tasted risk. My throat thirsts for experience. My eyes crave freedom.

Years later, I will tell my daughter of my own failures, mistakes, regrets.

I will repeat my mother’s words and add my own offering: I am not wise, but I am listening. I am not wise, but I am learning.

About the Author

Lissa Pompos Mansfield (she/her) is a wife, mother, steward of a Little Free Diverse Library, and Associate Instructor in the Department of Writing and Rhetoric at UCF.