The Grate

Rusted, even then, the metal platform was our playground in the summer months
It was our aerie
We sat there, my sister and I, hoping to catch an errant breeze
Below us, rubbish filled yards
Translucent fern-like leaves fanned out from slender trunks, more weeds than tree
I crawled outside our parents’ bedroom window, dreaming of the outside world, wondering at my family, the black numbers on their soft forearms
I held my doll and created stories as my mother did when we sat on the worn velvet couch
Aloft, on the grate, I imagined myself a bird
And flew and flew above the undulating hills, the deep forests, far, far away from the invaders, to freedom
“The Grate” first appeared on
About the Author
Elaine Rosenberg Miller writes fiction and non-fiction. Her work has appeared in numerous print publications and online sites, domestically and abroad, including JUDISCHE RUNDSCHAU, THE BANGALORE REVIEW, THE FORWARD, THE HUFFINGTON POST and THE JEWISH PRESS. Her books,, FISHING IN THE INTERCOASTAL AND OTHER SHORT STORIES, THE CHINESE JEW. THE TRUST and PALMBEACHTOWN are available on Amazon and Kindle.
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