Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Pulled along, pulled apart

I remember hiding in Ottawa, under the covers…so close to the floor that was my responsibility to sweep. I wasn’t working so I was in charge of house work. How was I supposed to make it up to the woman who was supporting me when all I had to sweep could be crossed in two paces? There was a lot of white woodwork and molding that collected dust in ways impossible to clean. It decoratively framed my prison and I remember trying to stay out of the corners; regret, much like dust, settles there. I would sit all day and worry and watch all my efforts erode into lists of all that she gave me; and all that I didn’t give back.

I would open the window and shake out a rug or stack the cd’s that were sprawled on the floor but generally I would have the will only to hide in my bed dreading the fact that I would have to return the movie before she got home from work. If I found a few cents I would stop by the Sugar Mountain on the way back; that would make it bearable.

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