Watch the Moon
Watch the Moon for trascedenza
My husband died last week. Of a heart attack. Sometimes it feels like I'm living in jello. It's tough. But it sure does bring back somethin' else.
This ain't the first time I been made a widow. 'Bout twenty years ago, my first husband died. I told people it was in a car accident, and I guess I meant that. I mean, he was out in his car, and it was some kind a accident, but I guess the accident was one a simple misfortune. Who happened ta be on the road that day.
Alex was... Alex was good. He was respectful, and lovin'. I felt ways 'bout him I never felt 'bout Jack. He didn't drink himself under the bed in the spare bedroom, and he didn't ever ignore me when it just wasn't convenient for him ta listen.
But there was something 'bout Jack that Alex lacked. It's awful hard ta say what it is. Sometimes in the middle a the night, even when Jack was drunk off his behind-- especially when Jack was drunk off his behind-- Jack used ta watch the moon like it could deliver him from the world. Like it might pick him right up and carry him into the sky. I always thought it was a sign of somethin' that was wrong with him. Like maybe he wasn't all there, with the drink.
Now I know he wasn't all there. Last night, I was tryin' a put Alex's things in boxes. Done that before. I know how to move a dead husband out. But I felt something 'bout Alex I never felt 'bout Jack, and I found myself clutchin' a gin drink, hand wrapped 'round the porch railin', tears streamin' ta the moon. And I saw it then. How I'd become Jack.
And now that I know the kind a pain Jack was feelin' on those moonlit nights, I could shame myself for bickerin' with him, for tellin' him he was a fool and callin' him inside. Cause missin' is a bad emotion, you know?
Guess he was a fool. Guess so am I. Guess love makes fools of us all.
My husband died last week. Of a heart attack. Sometimes it feels like I'm living in jello. It's tough. But it sure does bring back somethin' else.
This ain't the first time I been made a widow. 'Bout twenty years ago, my first husband died. I told people it was in a car accident, and I guess I meant that. I mean, he was out in his car, and it was some kind a accident, but I guess the accident was one a simple misfortune. Who happened ta be on the road that day.
Alex was... Alex was good. He was respectful, and lovin'. I felt ways 'bout him I never felt 'bout Jack. He didn't drink himself under the bed in the spare bedroom, and he didn't ever ignore me when it just wasn't convenient for him ta listen.
But there was something 'bout Jack that Alex lacked. It's awful hard ta say what it is. Sometimes in the middle a the night, even when Jack was drunk off his behind-- especially when Jack was drunk off his behind-- Jack used ta watch the moon like it could deliver him from the world. Like it might pick him right up and carry him into the sky. I always thought it was a sign of somethin' that was wrong with him. Like maybe he wasn't all there, with the drink.
Now I know he wasn't all there. Last night, I was tryin' a put Alex's things in boxes. Done that before. I know how to move a dead husband out. But I felt something 'bout Alex I never felt 'bout Jack, and I found myself clutchin' a gin drink, hand wrapped 'round the porch railin', tears streamin' ta the moon. And I saw it then. How I'd become Jack.
And now that I know the kind a pain Jack was feelin' on those moonlit nights, I could shame myself for bickerin' with him, for tellin' him he was a fool and callin' him inside. Cause missin' is a bad emotion, you know?
Guess he was a fool. Guess so am I. Guess love makes fools of us all.