AN HOUR EVERY AFTERNOON
by Bobbi Lurie
For an hour every afternoon her husband takes their children out to the park. What they do there she doesn't know. She just waits for the good-byes to end so she can close the door and begin what she has come to call her real life.
She tells her husband this is her time for grading papers but actually all she does is sit and stare out into space. This is the only time she feels she can be herself. Sometimes she makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She chews the sandwich slowly while staring blankly out the window.
Sometimes she will try and write a poem or short story but mostly she sits and thinks about ten years ago. She sits and wonders now who that baby might have turned out to be. She fantasizes a ten year old girl or a ten year old boy about to come back with their father.
Sometimes a terrible torment grabs at her heart. But the tears never come. Her dry eyes burn inside of her head with a desire not to think.
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This is a superbly drawn tragedy, powerful, and not a word wasted. Fav.
Strong example of desperation at the end. I like the piece. Good form, Bobbi. Nice work.
Strong piece, emotionally charged. Love that the short story or poem never gets written. Wonder abut the tense shift after the first paragraph, however. Why not present tense?
So heartbreaking, Bobbi, and expertly drawn.
Thank you Jack, Sam, Paul and Marcelle. Your comments are very much appreciated.
So sad and so simple in it's delivery. Kudos.
thank you, Matt.
bobbi
This is completely excellent.
Thank you, Darryl.
This is an excellent story, Bobbi. Well done!
Watch what happens when you take out the words "the abortion she had."
"Sometimes she will try and write a poem or short story but mostly she sits and thinks about ten years ago. She sits and wonders now who that baby might have turned out to be. She fantasizes a ten year old girl or a ten year old boy about to come back with their father."
To me, the word "abortion" is so strong it capsizes the story.
Bobbi, this was so clear to me, I could picture your narrator and her kitchen, taste her sandwich and feel what she felt, all done in the most simple and straightforward prose style. Good micro!
thank you,
Bill and
thank you Susan--
bobbi
Bill,
I made the change you suggested.
Bobbi
Bobbi, this story I LOVE! Written very well ...
(p.s. I tried to review the other story but couldn't find it back)
Thank you, Lena.
what other story do you mean?
This is an example of how the recitation of mundane events can deepen the impact of a tragedy. Good. *
I agree with what others have said about this. The strong material is well served by the flat understatedness of the prose. That's an interesting combination. Strange to find this posted in the essays group.
Sad, and excellent. *