The realization
Heavy with the armor of a mourner’s righteousness, I waited all afternoon near the silent telephone, knowing she’d call to apologize. When she didn’t I took the armor off piece by piece and actually considered what she'd said. I went to the foyer and, as if it were a Band-Aid, I ripped off the sheet that covered the full-length mirror and forced myself to look. She was right.
Bruised under my eyes with sleeplessness, I did look abused, and my normally plump cheeks had gone dark and hollow. My clothing folded around my body as if I were a child wearing her mother’s dress. I was evaporating swiftly, as inexorably as tea water screeching from a kettle. I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last.
I checked the refrigerator. It was empty except for a very dead burger and some prehistoric fries. Surely I had eaten something. Oh, yes. I'd had cereal. I'd eaten it dry because there was no milk. And what else? There had to be something else. Wasn't there a warmed up can of baked beans? Or had that been the day before?
I used to love to eat. Used to love to cook, too. Sometimes I'd spend the entire day cooking. I'd fill the counters with bowls and pots and measuring cups and flat blond wooden spoons. I'd whip out everything in the fridge and make casseroles with silly names that would make Dana giggle, and we would feast on Mrs. Frumwort's Ginger Jungle Jumble or Lady Lana's Loony Linguine Lasagna while she'd tell me all about the doings at school.
"Mommy, guess what. Mrs. Raleigh chose my picture to hang on the bulletin board. It's the one I drew of you hanging laundry in the back yard, remember?" she'd asked me all flushed faced and proud as if I'd actually seen the drawing. And I’d felt left out somehow, tasting a hint of the time when she'd grow up and go her own way. I’d wanted to clutch her and devour her child's scent before her perfume changed from April sunshine to something more synthetic. I’d wanted to beg her not to grow up.
Excerpt from Hidden Passages: Tales to Honor the Crones, pp 200-201
Get this ebook for $4.99 at this secure server! http://tiny.cc/6yv27
To see and hear Vila reading this excerpt, click here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZoZfXHAiJs
Bruised under my eyes with sleeplessness, I did look abused, and my normally plump cheeks had gone dark and hollow. My clothing folded around my body as if I were a child wearing her mother’s dress. I was evaporating swiftly, as inexorably as tea water screeching from a kettle. I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last.
I checked the refrigerator. It was empty except for a very dead burger and some prehistoric fries. Surely I had eaten something. Oh, yes. I'd had cereal. I'd eaten it dry because there was no milk. And what else? There had to be something else. Wasn't there a warmed up can of baked beans? Or had that been the day before?
I used to love to eat. Used to love to cook, too. Sometimes I'd spend the entire day cooking. I'd fill the counters with bowls and pots and measuring cups and flat blond wooden spoons. I'd whip out everything in the fridge and make casseroles with silly names that would make Dana giggle, and we would feast on Mrs. Frumwort's Ginger Jungle Jumble or Lady Lana's Loony Linguine Lasagna while she'd tell me all about the doings at school.
"Mommy, guess what. Mrs. Raleigh chose my picture to hang on the bulletin board. It's the one I drew of you hanging laundry in the back yard, remember?" she'd asked me all flushed faced and proud as if I'd actually seen the drawing. And I’d felt left out somehow, tasting a hint of the time when she'd grow up and go her own way. I’d wanted to clutch her and devour her child's scent before her perfume changed from April sunshine to something more synthetic. I’d wanted to beg her not to grow up.
Excerpt from Hidden Passages: Tales to Honor the Crones, pp 200-201
Get this ebook for $4.99 at this secure server! http://tiny.cc/6yv27
To see and hear Vila reading this excerpt, click here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZoZfXHAiJs