In second grade I got my first pair of glasses. I thought maybe I had to keep them out of the rain, they
were that precious to me. I thought maybe
I could count the leaves on every single tree
from clear across the other end of our yard. Sharp sharp clear. I have not had that clear new vision since.
Here's what. Thursdays were library days, I always
needed an extra bag. The library lady knew us all
by name, the Mom with five kids and fifty books
each visit. Sundays were for toast and butter, books
and milk. Do you know we used to use maybe 3 or 4 loaves
of bread on Sunday mornings. When you are reading,
bread and butter slides down like nothing. Milk is
cold and thick with sunlight and books are books are books.
Dad cutting my hair says If you brush your hair
with your other hand while you reading, I would not
have to work out these tangles all the time and
then the dentist says If you'd brush your teeth
with your spare hand all the time when you read, you
would not have to come here so often. Silly Silly
Silly. If I use one hand for my teeth and one hand
for my hair, I will not be able to read. So I ignored
them both and kept drinking in words. I wish I were
still thirsty like that.
In the morning I watched the sky light
up, cold bottom imprinted on a heat register. Dark
to grey to white. I thought I could not sleep but really I
was impatient, waking myself up. Here is Today! Here is
Morning! Hello Hello Hello Here I Am!