Child with Toy Hand Grenade in Central Park, NYC, 1962

After the photograph by Diane Arbus

sara carmichael

The day my father moved out of our apartment 

I was watching one of those old war movies 

with the volume up too loud. My brothers were 

shoving each other off of the couch, playing king 

of the mountain and laughing when the enemy 

got his brains blasted out. After my parents 

first started fighting, we got toy swords. When my father

started sleeping on the couch, we got toy guns. The afternoon 

we got toy grenades, my father had just finished

teaching us to a hit a backhand the way he used to 

in the good old days when he told us about 

the divorce. My older brother thought that

he was joking, ignoring the look on our father’s face as

he tried to bash me over the head with 

a tennis racket. My younger brother giggled and said 

that’s a funny word. My father left us in the park, 

yelling over his shoulder,  practice doesn’t make perfect,

perfect practice makes perfect. I just stood there, exploding. 

Sara Carmichael is a senior majoring in creative writing at Interlochen Arts Academy. Originally from Montclair, New Jersey, her work has been nationally recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, among others.