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January 30, 2008

Wednesday

Today's theme is "something's growing in the basement."

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Comments

_ The child knows.
_ Shhhh! Of course not! How?
_ I caught her looking at me.
_ We’re the last ones on the block and you’re worried about ‘looking’?
_ She has to trust us.
_ Well if you hadn’t blabbered on about flood mold at dinner -
_ What was I supposed to say? She asked and it’s all over the radio. I’m telling you, the city's all dead. Let go.
_ Sure, you can let go, you can’t hear them. The drowned ones don’t go quiet. They’re thirsty.
_ Fine. But you’ll have to find a way to get her into the basement yourself. I’m done.

Posted by: Meowbag at January 30, 2008 1:50 PM · Permalink

They need the cold, and the dark.

It’s a yearly ritual. Hope in darkness, confidence that this year, as every year, the days will turn after the solstice, the early evenings will lengthen, just a little, each day, creeping up by minutes.

Down there, we buried them in rich dark soil, in the blue bowl that was my grandmother’s, the terracotta trough my mother brought from Italy, the painted pots from Eastern Europe that I somehow brought home unbroken.

And before winter is over, their green shoots will come, and we’ll bring them upstairs. Daffodils. Hyacinths. Spring. Colour. Perfume; hope.

Posted by: rooruu at February 2, 2008 2:46 AM · Permalink