nobody tells you how it’s going to feel
October 27th, 2010 § Leave a Comment
They might try, but then one morning you’re there working. Your computer is open. You’re writing something, emailing. Outside it’s starting to rain. There’s bird-sounds. An early Spring rain. Last night your wife washed the dolls and their clothes. You see them out there on the line, moving in the wind, the raindrops making small dark spots. You go out there, unsnap them from the clothespins. Some of the dolls are new. Some of them have been with you since your daughter was born. They’ve moved with you to three different houses, in and out of boxes, rolling on floors, thrown at the dog, put up on shelves, slept with, lost, found later under beds or behind bookcases. Now they’re out here in the rain. Everyone else is still asleep. It’s just you out there. You’re taking them off the clothesline. You never could’ve imagined this precise moment in your life occurring. You never could’ve imagined how it would feel.
