Welcome back to Thirty-One, the project where I attempt to write something every day for a year. If you missed any previous issues, you can find them by clicking here.
Day Eight (May 4th) It isn’t just the worms. Today I went to my mom’s house and noticed a moth sitting on her screen door handle. It wasn’t sitting, though. Its tiny wings were folded close to its tiny body, and it didn’t move when I reached for the handle. The poor thing was crusted onto the knob. It’s nearly summer, and everything is dying. I’m ready for the rains to come. Day Nine (May 5th) An egret visited today. I think it noticed me before I noticed it. I went out to get the mail and took a few steps before its movement caught my eye. We stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to flinch first. I kept my eyes on the great white bird as I sat down on my front step. My slowness seemed to satisfy the visitor, as it began strolling through my yard once again. I lost sight of the egret as its lanky body disappeared behind the wall of my house. When I stood again to retrieve my mail, the bird unfurled its wings and glided over to the neighbors’ yard. Clouds hovered in the distance, but the sun won the day. Day Ten (May 6th) Sunburns make us like snakes. We peel off the dead skin, eager to relieve the new growth beneath. I like to pull it away slowly, with serpent-like patience, keeping the sun’s memory intact. The spiderweb lines of my skin remain visible in the translucent death removed. Day Eleven (May 7th) in a quiet house the settling is a shout I’m all alone now Day Twelve (May 8th) Silhouettes and shadows dance while the cat sleeps soundly on the windowsill. The light melts over her, and though it doesn’t reach me, I feel warm. Day Thirteen (May 9th) Anything you can do, I can do bleeding. I can do anything crampier than you. No, you can’t. Yes, I can’t. No, you can’t. Ok, maybe you’re right. I’m just going to take a handful of ibuprofen and crawl into the fetal position. Day Fourteen (May 10th) I often garden in sandals. Feeling the soil between my toes makes me feel like the flowers. Pale skin contrasts with black dirt like white roots pulled from the earth. When I’m done, I dip my feet in the pool and rinse the day away.
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Re may ninth the best thing about old age and childhood is no periods. These dailys are lovely.