082/100 aka 222/365

RELIVE
Word Count: 310

She didn’t realize she’d only wished for yesterday and therein was her error.

The first day was as if her dream had come true. She woke up (of course not knowing she’d awakened on this same day the very day before) and he maneuvered around her as they’d done thousands of times before. Shower, mirrors, coffee, breakfast, all a morning symphony until it struck a chord. Minor quibbles, hurt feelings, stubborn crisp goodbyes as they set off in each their own direction.

She didn’t worry until close to seven, turned the oven down to warm and set the salad back in the fridge. She called his cell phone and got a busy signal. The state trooper came at 7:28. Her heart fell to her feet. It held her back within the speed limit on the drive to the hospital. It left her when she saw him white and lifeless on the bed. She asked them to remove the ventilator so she could kiss him goodbye.

They asked her if she was okay to drive back home. She made the necessary calls from the “family waiting room” while she calmed her nerves with iced tea that someone brought her from a vending machine. She drove home slowly, stumbling through the night highway like a drunk feeling his way home.

To make it real she took the salad out of the refrigerator and dumped it in the trash. She washed and dried the dishes. She watched herself in the mirror getting ready for bed when emotional exhaustion left her tearless and yet she whispered “widow” into the empty room. She couldn’t sleep and finally got up and took a pill because she couldn’t stay awake. As she drifted into an uneasy sleep she wished for yesterday.

She woke up and he maneuvered around her as they’d do a thousand times again.

This entry was posted in 100 Days 2011, Magical Realism and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to 082/100 aka 222/365

  1. Steve Veilleux says:

    Enjoyed (painfully) this piece; again it works as magic, and as a repeating spiritual/psychological exercise, it describes the universal attempt to deal with trauma,
    and yet again, the piece itself repeats other efforts by you the writer to handle loss.

  2. susan says:

    I’m finding that death always makes us consider it, pull it out of the box where we keep it stored for “later” and take a close look. It refuses to be ignored any longer. Then we put it back and try to forget that we still know everything yet understand nothing about it.

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