It was missed communion, a lost opportunity to shape a shared meal. She felt guilty, slicing the loaf of bread alone, asking for grace only for herself, sipping wine meant to be shared.
And yet, the quiet was exactly what she needed.
Like a spy in the night
August 16, 2009In my dream, he told me he was glad I left my computer on all night. Easy access, he said in an email. I’ve been going through your files remotely while you were sleeping, seeing what’s on there.
When I awoke, I could not decide what disturbed me more: That he’d been going through my data, or that I’d dreamed about him at all.
Happily ever after
August 14, 2009“I don’t do happily ever after,” he said.
It occurred to me then that, really, neither do I.
Hereditary?
August 12, 2009Only once has there been reason for me to worry. And I am, now, three years older than he was, the year I was born, the year they wouldn’t let him in the delivery room because he had an open incision from a successful surgery.
But, I watch for signs. He was healthy, too, but his softball stats that had slipped a little. He was just a little tired.
They tell me, now, they’ve learned I’m more likely only to have inherited his quick wit, not his cancer. Still, I cross my fingers. I take the test.
Underwater
August 10, 2009The two of them might as well have been underwater, far from the surface. He knew she spoke, but could not hear the words.
I don’t understand, she said, or, at least, he thought she said. He had never been very good at reading lips.
She lifted a hand to her cheek. He tried to ignore any lack of oxygen. He wanted to reach out to touch her, but he was afraid to weaken her further, leave her even more vulnerable than she already was.
The first few months
August 8, 2009The line between known and not known is sheer as muslin, and blows sideways as easily in the mildest breeze. I see shapes on the other side, some fluttering like flags, some solid as anchors. I am counting them, my fingers tapping their number into my cupped palm. I know the number set as threshold. I am paying attention, even when my vision is ever-so-slightly obscured.
All distraction
August 4, 2009For an hour, it was all distraction: bright lights, unusual sounds, hands yanking from all direction. Then calm returned briefly, a placid moment, an opportunity to breathe before it all began again.
She tried closing her eyes, but her eyelids were no proper guard against the light. She tried plugging her ears, but the sounds had infiltrated her brain and she could hear them anyway. It was then that she gave herself over to all of it, unwilling to expend any more energy fighting the inevitable.
100 Proof 