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Angry stairs claim the ankles of children to teach them lessons. Dictionaries with broken backs teach the vocabulary of victims to willing ears. Motel room infants and alley kids vie for the attention of roulette tables. Every path has a beginning. This is where Darlene came from. It was hot, even in the night time. She didn’t see snow until her thirteenth birthday.
Thirteen, for her, became a lucky number. That was the year she moved to a part of the world with a winter season. It was like being transplanted into a dream. The first snowfall she saw was like water on a fire. She felt like she was being extinguished, made into steam, and cooled. The fight felt over. The hard life seemed like it was softening.
Work was hard to get but she got something. Rooms were hard to find but she found one. Friends were difficult to come by but she managed to snag a few. A life of sorts started to develop in the cracks between the bricks of her life.
I met her when she was twenty-six. I would never have guessed she was that young. She was working part-time at the library. She was putting books back on shelves. As meetings go, it wasn’t Hollywood. It was clumsy. I think I was entertaining but I have nothing to base that on other than the fact that she said yes.
That was four months ago. I can still see the revolutions and the death in her eyes but I can see the glimmer of this new life glittering there as well. It’s like she’s pregnant with the idea that she might be able to relax and it’s growing month by month.
Calm ladders embrace the wings of angels to let them rest for a while. Thesauruses with strong arms give other words to use in place of bad ones. Mansion brats and million dollar babies grow bored with comfort. Every path has an end. This is where I came from. It was a museum, even during parties. I didn’t see fire until I saw Darlene.
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Thirteen, for her, became a lucky number. That was the year she moved to a part of the world with a winter season. It was like being transplanted into a dream. The first snowfall she saw was like water on a fire. She felt like she was being extinguished, made into steam, and cooled. The fight felt over. The hard life seemed like it was softening.
Work was hard to get but she got something. Rooms were hard to find but she found one. Friends were difficult to come by but she managed to snag a few. A life of sorts started to develop in the cracks between the bricks of her life.
I met her when she was twenty-six. I would never have guessed she was that young. She was working part-time at the library. She was putting books back on shelves. As meetings go, it wasn’t Hollywood. It was clumsy. I think I was entertaining but I have nothing to base that on other than the fact that she said yes.
That was four months ago. I can still see the revolutions and the death in her eyes but I can see the glimmer of this new life glittering there as well. It’s like she’s pregnant with the idea that she might be able to relax and it’s growing month by month.
Calm ladders embrace the wings of angels to let them rest for a while. Thesauruses with strong arms give other words to use in place of bad ones. Mansion brats and million dollar babies grow bored with comfort. Every path has an end. This is where I came from. It was a museum, even during parties. I didn’t see fire until I saw Darlene.
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