February 8, 2018
Your mom’s selling her house, your house. She called me up, needed some help with the toilet in her bathroom. Always hated fixing other people’s plumbing (kinda goes without saying) but I didn’t say no to her, I never could. She was the gateway to you…
She made me lunch when I finished up, telling me about her garden and her bridge club. There was something sad in the way she talked, and I wondered if the sad was for me. I wanted to tell her I was fine, that life was good. In my head I could hear myself selling it like some commercial, but I never did say it out loud.
Sitting in your old living room, I wondered if the world would end this way, everything the color of dirt, and sunlight squirreling its way through broken blinds. Couldn’t help thinking that it looked brighter when you were here.
I really like this vignette, Carmen! More please!
Thanks Sarah! I’m doing one a week, unless the apocalypse happens and I have to run from zombies and forage for food:)
This one evokes memories for me. You tell this story so beautifully.
Thanks Mary! I had a strange sort of deja vu when I was in the room where I took the picture…definitely a room of memories.
Carolyn L Szatkowski
Carmen, I love the metaphor “sunlight squirreling its way through broken blinds.” Yes, I understand the nostalgia in this piece.
Thanks Carolyn! I think many of us have these great memories wrapped up in places or music or the small little details like a certain kind of light.