Reading Her on Love

As a child I remember her saying, “read everything you can get your hands on.” I took that literally, collected every word, image, and sound I could gather and press against my eyes and ears.

And when there were no pages, I read the tone of her wrinkled brow at the end of the day, her melancholy dry and speckled white in the corners of her eyes, her resilience, sitting at the side of the bed wielding her body forward. I remember reading those cues through the thin walls, near the sliver of light between the door, her and I.

I remember sitting still in the quiet, closing my eyes to wondering narratives, making up new words for love.

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Categories: Writing

2 Comments on “Reading Her on Love”

  1. Gwen Stephens
    February 10, 2014 at 7:04 pm #

    Beautiful. I want to know who she is!

    • February 10, 2014 at 7:44 pm #

      Thank you. Ha! I’m still getting to know her (as I am most of the women that show up in my work). I for the most part made her up and I too am intrigued.

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