Bonnie Blue Scot Walker   © Copyright 2026 by Scot Walker

Photo by Bulat Khamitov at Pexels.

Lots of people came and left her house that morning and Bonnie Blue didn’t know why. They weren’t happy like they usually were, but they all smiled at her in a strange way. Some of them even patted Bonnie Blue’s head—except Nama—grandma squeezed her extra hard and cried.

“We’ll survive,” Nama said, “no matter what, we will survive.”

Bonnie Blue hugged Nama back. She didn’t understand what her grandma meant, but she understood her this time. She was so different from her happy grandma self. Bonnie Blue noticed that about people—when they were upset their pores got big and wide and stinky and Nama was like that now, a holding-hugging stinky open-pored hulk of a woman, hugging her, squeezing her like Bonnie Blue sometimes squeezed one of her toy animals when she was upset.

Bonnie Blue filled her sand bucket to the top and hoisted it up, up, up way up, over her head. She loved the feel of the hot dry sand as it filtered through her hair and made soft tiny white marshmallow mountains all around her. Her mom must have loved it, too, because she always gave Bonnie Blue a hot bath and washed her hair each time she came in from the backyard covered with sand. Those were the times Bonnie Blue remembered. The times she loved: those very private times with mommy, when daddy played with Billy and Bonnie Blue had her mom all to herself.

Sand’s special, Bonnie Blue thought as she slowly poured another small pail all over her head. Sand’s fun! Bonnie Blue didn’t know the words to express her happiness, but she knew she loved to be the center of attention, she knew she loved being the queen of the Universe (that’s what Billy had called her the day she dumped her plate of carrots on her head and sat up regally, smiling and laughing, as the carrots dripped and Billy licked them from her face). Life was fun, nothing but fun, and Bonnie Blue wished her family could experience the same joy she did. She wished her mom could sit out back and play in the sand with her. Sometimes, she wished Billy would join her, too, and the three of them could have so much fun.

Bonnie Blue had little concept of time—mostly she lived in the moment—but she knew she hadn’t seen Billy since the sun went down and that’s when it happened, that’s when all the people started tapping, tap, tap, tap, very quietly tapping at the front door. And then the phone started to ring, ring, ring and made so much noise—it wasn’t the happy noise Bonnie was used to. No, it wasn’t at all! It just kept ringing and wouldn’t stop and Bonnie Blue thought her head was going to throb and explode. That’s when Bonnie Blue’s mother took her upstairs and dumped her in her bed—that’s right, she dumped her, she didn’t cuddle her or hold her or nothing, she just tossed her in the bed like she was a bag of cat litter and that made Bonnie Blue so angry she held her breath and turned purple and refused to cry. I want mommy to know I am the queen. Billy knows but that’s not good enough, he’s just a kid like me. I want mommy to know I am her princess. I am her queen.

After slowly releasing her breath and turning pale again, Bonnie Blue wanted to think about herself and her problems but she couldn’t, those adults were downstairs and they were whispering and the one thing Bonnie Blue hated most was when people ignored her and whispered—whispered like cats hissing in the darkest night when there is no moon and the clouds were thick there also were no stars—and all that whispering forced her to turn her head back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, like a python licking the frigid night air, trying to sense the clues. . . . trying to understand.

But then Bonnie Blue heard the doors opening and closing Billy’s door—oh so quietly—over and over again, and she knew it was Billy’s door because he had the squeaky one, the one that went crunch late at night and gave Bonnie Blue goose bumps. That’s when Bonnie Blue though she heard the adults downstairs crying. And their crying was new to her because she had never heard adults cry before. They’re crying, crying like me, but why? What have I done wrong?

Bonnie Blue had looked at her toes and had played with her fingers last night while falling asleep. Bonnie Blue loved her toes; she loved sucking them, shoving them into her mouth, licking them, tasting them. Billy can’t do this. Billy can’t suck his toes. I’m special, I love my toes, Bonnie Blue had scratched the inside of her mouth with her toenail and she had cried late last night and her mommy had been there, holding her, loving her, but now mommy was away, and cat-litter Blue Bonnie was alone in her mommy’s bed wondering what the whispering was all about.

Bonnie Blue had slept a bit—nodding off—thinking about her toes, and her sand pile but that’s when the ruckus started, that’s when mommy and daddy and Billy and all of them started ignoring her and that’s when she noticed everyone had red eyes, and nasty big swollen faces, and they walked around like they were zombies. To make matters worse, almost no one looked directly at her. It was almost like they were deliberately ignoring her and even the people who did notice her only patted her on her head—way too hard! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! I am not a cute little puppy dog, Bonnie Blue thought. I am the princess—Billy’s princess, Daddy’s princess, Mommy’s princess, Nama’s princess.

Her toes stopped interesting her and Bonnie Blue cried now—louder and louder, but no one came so she cried some more, screaming out in anger.

Bonnie Blue’s mom stayed in bed all morning. She didn’t even prepare breakfast for Bonnie and Bonnie Blue got cranky—she got red-faced scream-at-the-top-of-her-lungs cranky. Bonnie Blue’s mom had always fixed breakfast and Bonnie wondered why her mom wasn’t there now. Bonnie wondered why her mom was being so mean to her.

Bonnie Blue’s dad gave her a bowl of corn flakes—they were okay, but it was the wrong cereal. Bonnie Blue didn’t like corn flakes. She couldn’t hold them in her fingers as easily as she could hold her Cheerios. The tiny pieces kept breaking and she had to slop a handful of them in the milk and form them in a ball to shove them in her mouth. Bonnie Blue cried. Then she screamed, but her daddy was too stupid to know what she wanted. Her mother always knew what Bonnie Blue’s cries meant. Bonnie mother always knew how to please her baby girl, but Bonnie Blue’s daddy had no clue—no clue at all. Bonnie Blue felt abandoned and she didn’t like being left alone like this, alone and desolate. She didn’t know where her big brother, Billy, was. She didn’t know why mommy was still in bed. She didn’t like her daddy feeding her. She wanted her mommy. She wanted things to be like they had been before she went to bed.

Mrs. Wilkerson finally came downstairs. Like the others, she looked extraordinarily tired and weak—like she’d been crying all night long—like she hadn’t had a moment’s rest all night. Bonnie Blue sensed that much. Bonnie Blue had had many evenings like that herself—she just never realized her mommy could feel the same way or look so miserable and so sad.

“Take Bonnie Blue upstairs and dress her” Bonnie’s mom told her dad. “I can’t do that now. I just can’t do anything now! And for God’s sakes, close Billy’s door just leave him there until—until—until the undertaker—just take care of Bonnie Blue, until, I can---”

Bonnie Blue watched a river of tears flowing down her mother’s face and then on her daddy’s face and she wondered where Billy was, when he hadn’t come downstairs for his breakfast and if he’d have tears streaming down his face, too. She just wanted things to be like Cheerio time, like sandbox time, like sandbox time, not like soggy corn flakes and milk time. There’s nothing more tragic than when mommy makes daddy take care of me!