Michele Archives

March 10, 2009

Michele: Travels

She wanted to see America. Rent a Winnebago, travel the country, see all the landmarks. We’d done Europe and South America, but never our own country.

“How many states do you think we can get in before I die?” she asked.

“All of them, love.” She knew it was wishful thinking. I knew it, too.

Our tour of the country lasted one day; from Statue of Liberty to the emergency room. Her last words were “49 to go, Dan.”

After the funeral, I put her urn on the passenger seat of the Winnebago and we set off to see America.

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March 11, 2009

Michele: How Does Your Garden Grow?

"It is much easier to grow a garden with love than with hate," he said.

"Bullshit." She spit an acidic stream into the garden. One closed tulip opened up.

The little man laughed. He plucked an arrow from his back, strung it across his bow and let
go. It fell into the garden and a thousand flowers bloomed at once. "Like I said," he smiled.

She grabbed the arrow and turned on him, stabbing him until he stopped squirming. Where his blood flowed flowers sprouted, seeded and multiplied.

She smiled as impatiens covered his body. "I always hate your platitudes."

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March 12, 2009

Michele: If Only

“If I only had…”



“No, tell me.”

“That’s it. If I only had nothing. Nothing to go home to. Nothing to hold on to.”

“Then we could be something.”

“Yea. Instead of….this.” She nodded toward the motel. They sat in the car, motor running, The Best of Air Supply playing softly.

Jim took Lena’s face in his hands. “If I only had a chance to do this over again, I wouldn’t do this to you. You wouldn’t be wishing for nothing. We wouldn’t be here again.”

“It was my choice, too.”

“Is it still?”

“Take me home, please?”

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March 13, 2009

Michele: lucky

He had a wife, a son and a dog. He had a house with a picket fence and rose garden. He drove a nice car, played golf every day and had good friends . He had such fortune his whole life, they called him Lucky.

Now he couldn’t remember the name of his wife or son or dog, or any of his friends, or what kind of car he drove. He sat by the window every day ,crying because he could not remember anything but the frustration that the nurse’s daily words brought him.

“You have a visitor, Lucky. ”

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March 19, 2009

Michele: Do Not Hesitate

“You need to sign the registration form.”
He hesitated, pen poised in air, sighed, then signed. The caseworker noted this, put it away in his head for later.

28 days later, he was outside again, free. He got a cab to his sister’s house and borrowed her car.

“For a meeting. I have to go to these meetings now.”

He hesitated in the church parking lot, then drove off for to a different meeting.

Later that night, he passed out on his bed and never woke up.

No one was surprised he was dead. Just that he hesitated so long.

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March 26, 2009

Michele: How to Kill a Clown

“Do you need some string?” The boy had five balloons in his arms. When he reached up to grab a stray balloon, another floated away. The clown asked the boy again: “Do you need some string?”

The boy shook his head, grabbed the errant balloon and continued down the boardwalk. The clown, intrigued, followed him down the stairs and under the boardwalk. The boy smiled, let the balloons go. They reached the boardwalk's underside, where splinters exploded them. A shower of latex and color floated to the ground. And then, the clown was gone.

“It worked.”The boy smiled. “Magic.”

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March 31, 2009

Michele: Split Decision

“You don’t have to do this,” her father says.

The stress of saying no now was too much. She should have said no then. But yes was easy. No was complicated.

Now she sits in a limousine wishing she for the courage to say what she means, not what is expected.

Yes has a comfortable complacency. No opens a void that frightens her.

Her father looks at her, waiting. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again. He wants her to say no.

Yes is less stressful.

She hikes up her wedding dress and steps out of the limosuine.

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April 17, 2009

michele: last time

Last time I saw her she was wearing pink pants and a white shirt.

Her hair was in a ponytail, tied back with a piece of yellow yarn that came off the dress of her favorite doll.

She was wearing a yellow raincoat with a tear in the pocket and blue rubber boots that used to be her brother’s and a candy necklace that she promised not to eat until after dinner.

She had a spot of lipstick on her left cheek from when I kissed her goodbye.

Before she got on her bike.

The last time I saw her.

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