Summer seemed both too long and too short. It was suddenly over with a drop or many drops of rain. Four and a half inches so far.
She couldn’t focus. Though her house had no mold–she had it checked constantly, and her eagle nose didn’t detect that horrid distinctive smell, her brain felt moldy.
She couldn’t focus so she attacked the kitchen. She should have been happy when she looked at the almost bare counters, sink and scrubbed almost to perfection. But as she was finishing she could hear her father: “you missed a spot. Do it over.”
Not fair she thought, not fair at all though she knew that if she had been young when diagnosed her father would have searched the world for answers. He would have engulfed her in love; not pointed out all her weaknesses. “So close to perfect. Try a bit more.”
I tried, I tried, she thought.
It was so much easier in her late teens, 20’s and 30’s. First she drowned his words out. She claimed to have the longest adolescence in America. Though she worked and had an apartment somehow she managed to drag it out into sometime in her 40’s.
Somewhere in those years, she made herself indispensable to his life. Or she always had been and hadn’t noticed. Members of her family were constantly in imminent danger. It was her job to sort out the messes; to comfort them; to let them know that they saw too many mountains. Her mother comforted her. But then she became old, blind and frail. It wasn’t fair. No it wasn’t fair, but nobody says life’s supposed to be fair or easy.
She wondered what life would be like if she tampered with her memories? Edited them just a bit so only the good ones stood out. Or day dreamed a more perfect life? That should be a book. But she’s actually making progress on the one she began so long ago. First she needed sun. Copious amounts of sun.
Incredible line by DougI wish i wrote! His poem was inspired by one by Langston Hughes