Memories and Those Who Stayed

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Showing posts with label before SRS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label before SRS. Show all posts

58. Moment Fugue

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  When you’re on this block, you have one thing in common with anyone else here: the moment, this moment. Some have lived in it for longe...

57. Who Do They Talk To?

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  I don’t know whether Mrs. Littington knows about the man whose body was found in the basement. The body with my name. Maybe the lady wh...

56. Identification

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At least I haven’t seen any cops. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if I did. Could they make a positive ID of me? They couldn’t with that body i...

55. Before Tomorrow

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  Today. Just today. I just have to get through this day in one piece. It’s the only way anybody’s ever lived on this block and it’s the...

53. Winter

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  Some things I’ll never understand. Others, they won’t—not Mrs. Littington, the lady whose name I never knew—understand. Including the o...

52, Identities

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  So, as far as anybody on this block knows—if they ever know anything at all—that body found in the basement was mine. Or, at any rate, ...

51. From The Ground

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  Even if nobody here recognizes me, even if none of them recall me from the days when I lived on this block, I’ve got to get away as soon ...

50. More Stories

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  I suppose mother’d’ve wanted this. Or at least she wouldn’t’ve railed against it. But me, a part of me still wants to rescue her from i...

49. Bodies

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  Two of the main streets that enclose this block—a Parkway and an Avenue—are named “Ocean.” Three thoroughfares—a Boulevard as well as a ...

48, What They Knew

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  Some things are the same everywhere. Including here. People’re always afraid of what’s not there, or here. And then—guess what?—it hap...

46. Destinies

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I wonder whether mother ever had a moment when she knew, for that moment and all others in her life, exactly what she’d be. Mother. Cou...

45. Why We Cannot Reunite

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  Mother has now accomplished something I didn’t think she’d even try to do: For the first time in my life, I’m part of a reunion. Or am ...

44. Another Season

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Perhaps that winter wasn’t any longer or colder than any of the others. Or it could be that people here needed to remember it that way...

43. The Colors of Other Storms

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She never spoke of gathering clouds. Mother didn’t, either, but then she wasn’t one to speak about the weather. I didn’t understand why ...

42. What Is Enough

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  Some people think they’re underpaid, which is to say they think others make too much. Mother’d hear about some actor or baseball player ...

41. The Yellow Gown

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  I—the funeral director, really—chose the soft yellow gown in which she was dressed when the women of our block and I saw her for the last...