Pillow
The sky was an over-bleached sheet, stretched to the point of ripping. Everything worn but clean. He was saying he'd be happier if we lived in Canada. The sun seemed very close, like a star at the top of a Christmas tree. Maybe I could pull it down. Our baby had died, but he didn't call it a baby. This was the year we lived on 32nd Street. That spring, I sprayed lavender water on our pillows. Groceries rotted in the back of the fridge, and we spent too much money at the diner. We had a black dog named Ivan, who curled up with me at night when he was gone. I thought about my baby and cried without relenting. Then, after a few weeks, I stopped. By then I'd lost my job. But I felt almost happy, outside, hanging our clothes to dry and looking up at the sky. Sheets fluttered.
“Makes me think of a bygone era,” I told him. “Hanging out our laundry, that is.”
“Yes, smells nicer this way,” he agreed.
I thought we knew one another. I kissed his forehead. Then I went inside to sleep with the dog. He had a lion's mane and a nose like velveteen.
|
11
favs |
1838 views
15 comments |
216 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
This one appeared in Make magazine, and is included in my new collection.
Tags
This story has no tags.
"Our baby had died, but he didn't call it a baby." That line just clobbers me, Claudia, also "I thought we knew one another." So much emotion in such a compact space. Lovely.
"Everything worn but clean"-- such a key, defining description. Lovely piece.
"That spring, I sprayed lavender water on our pillows. Groceries rotted in the back of the fridge, and we spent too much money at the diner." - what a way to illustrate grief. This is wonderful and so tender.
"That spring, I sprayed lavender water on our pillows. Groceries rotted in the back of the fridge, and we spent too much money at the diner." - what a way to illustrate grief. This is wonderful and so tender.
what meg & kathy said--
wow. this one hurts. so well written.
This is excellent. Beautiful prose. Short and sweet.
My toes are warmer because of it.
"Our baby had died, but he didn't call it a baby." A line hidden among the others but filled with such a multitude of emotions.
Wonderful.
"Groceries rotted in the back of the fridge, and we spent too much money at the diner."
hey, that's my life.
Claudia, this is rich. A joy to read. Fave.
This is a wonderful piece. The spare dialogue is so effective, leading to the closing.
Full of sorrow and beauty. Lovely.
my wife had a miscarriage the day after we announced her pregnancy. the next morning before work, i stopped by the library to drop off the baby- naming books. it was before 5 a.m. i sat in my car on the verge of tears. i couldn't get myself to get out of the car. i missed my train. i had horrible thoughts. i went to work and dropped the books off the next morning.
this story brings me back to that morning.
look forward!
So much is said here about the human condition, about the almost unbearable sorrow of living with the unthinkable, our lost ability to make sense when for whatever reason we've stopped while everything else around us continues to flow. Beautifully done.
This just turned my heart over and over, Claudia. So well done.