Something Good
“Tell me something good,
just one good thing, just tell me
something that will get me through
the hours the days the weeks that bring
nothing of any goodness, just more
news of other things […]”
Margaret Atwood, excerpt from Paper Boat
The snowdrops are pushing up through the mud along the back fence, little tips of green against the sticky black, and the sun has been out every day this week, is out now, is warming the skin beneath my shirt, between my shoulder blades, is cupping the back of my neck. I am knitting a hat, cherry red; it might even be done before next winter. This morning my mother texted to see if I needed anything from the store; yesterday we filled the bird feeders; now there are mourning doves, and sparrows, and cardinals, and nuthatches, and woodpeckers, and finches, and juncos. Tonight I’m meeting a friend for dinner. I’ll get there early so I can stop by the bookstore. We’ll split the chickpea frites with béarnaise and we’ll talk and talk and talk and laugh, and when it’s time to go we’ll hug. When I get home the children will already be in bed, and I’ll go to their rooms to kiss their still heads and soft faces and whisper in their ears. I’ll imagine my voice sinking deep into their dreams,
their hearts,
their bones,
I love you
I love you
I love you
goodnight.
