She held resolutions in her hands like feathers, then released them, not even with an exhale, just with the wind. One stuck to her before letting go, another fell to the ground, but several caught the current, rose into the air, took wing. She brushed her palms together and went inside to get to work.
Broken ride
December 28, 2008His car was a shield, silvery defense against everything. Fast, slow, taking a turn, it was all the same, safe, only place he could stand the others, stand himself. His music. His smell. His belongings scattered around the floor.
There was a lot he hadn’t told her. She couldn’t have known what it meant when she told him, from the passenger seat, that she didn’t love him anymore. The small explosions in his heart governed his speed when he left her standing on the curb outside her house.
Handmaiden
December 26, 2008On the windswept hill, she buried three stones in a bag, one for each of them. They had all been wise, each of them walking away resolutely, sure of what they would find on the other end of their journey. They had taken everything precious, left her the night and the glow of that odd star. Their quest had only just begun that morning. She kissed the newly upturned earth, hoping they would return someday to rest awhile there with her.
Holiday travel
December 24, 2008The storms froze all of them in place—the ones in the airport sleeping in cots, the ones in the bus stations clutching their belongings, the ones who thought they were driving somewhere until their wheels turned and turned underneath them without moving them forward. They sat helplessly, waiting for a weatherman to say he could see it, see the clouds moving apart, exposing a star shining in the east. As night wore on, it became clear: they would take a star wherever they could find one.
Like a cat
December 22, 2008She is curled in the corner like a cat. There’s no reason for it, it just is. It is easier there, under a blanket, purring to herself. It is easier than being out there, doglike, panting and staring up at every one that comes along. She is curled up, claws retracted. She has no intention of going back out there.
Egg
December 20, 2008On that cold winter’s night, she surprised herself by craving a hard-boiled egg. Right from the water, it scalded her palm, but she cradled it in the sleeve of her sweatshirt and peeled it anyway, stopping to blow on her fingertips as she went along. It was egg-perfection, the yolk creamy and not too dry, the flavor sparkling with flecks of sea salt. Even long after she had consumed it, its warmth spread from her belly and tingled the ends of her fingers.
Sagittarius
December 18, 2008Every year, it rolls up on my calendar one week before Christmas. I don’t celebrate it anymore, and to be honest, I don’t even remember how we celebrated at the time. But I never delete the marker, and every year, I whisper to myself, “Happy birthday.”
100 Proof 