Prose, Short Prose, Short Story

Kissing Lake Ontario

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for dVerse Prosery Monday:
Prosery In the Words of Lisa Bellamy.
Our host Sanaa asks us to write a 144
word story using the quote shown at
the bottom of the page. This is my prose.

© Parish, NY Historical Society

Parish, New York – a dusty little town 20 miles from Oswego, just about kissing Lake Ontario. I was born there …. or, more accurately …. as a seed, I was shot out the back end of a blue jay when, heedless, she flew over the meadow.

The only child of Ron and Betty Cooper, Dad never said he was disappointed that I was a girl but I knew he really wanted a son.

Mom named me Carly Grace. Dad never called me Carly; I was always ‘Carl’ to him. I didn’t mind too much but Mom said it was a heartless thing for him to do – a constant reminder that she couldn’t give him a son.

Parish was the place I once called home. I lived there until it became too small for me or maybe I just got too damn disillusioned to stay.

NAR©2025
144 Words

“As a seed, I was shot out of the back end of a blue jay
when, heedless, she flew over the meadow.” –
Lisa Bellamy, from the poem, Wild Pansy.

This is “Flies On The Butter (You Can’t Go Home Again)” by The Judds

Prosery: In the words of Lisa Bellamy

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy’s Notes 🖊️🎶, The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, The Rhythm Section, et. al., and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.



40 thoughts on “Kissing Lake Ontario”

  1. Nancy, your prose captures such an evocative sense of place and self, especially in the way you explore the tension between expectations and identity. The mix of tenderness and quiet rebellion makes it feel both personal and universal.

    Much love,
    David

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    1. It’s a cool prompt, isn’t it? I find I don’t usually do well with these prosery prompts; I never know where to fit in the line. This one came to me from a story idea I’ve been playing around with …. and it worked! Thanks so much, Liz. I always appreciate your comments!

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    1. Thanks, Björn. My husband grew up on City Island, an actual island connected to The Bronx, NY. It was and is quite insular. He has said many times that it was a fabulous place to be a kid and a great place to go back to visit but he could never live there forever! You just lose your identity and drown. I can dig that. Thanks so much.

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  12. Lol … I was the second born, and Mum wanted a girl, and had already knitted the appropriate ‘pink’ babywear’ … her wish for a girl was granted 13 years later …

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