January
Essay 15, Finite
by gayla mills
I get a little nervous in January. Shit happens then.
People seem to die. My mood threatens to take hold and fling me to the ground.
Or not. That’s part of the problem with January. You just never know.
Maybe you’ll wake up to a warm sunny day, and you’re doing too much layering
for afternoon events. Or you might get a call from the hospital. We have some bad news.
I keep a little book of important dates, anniversaries and such. The notes are short:
Jan 18, 02: Mom D.
May 16, 26: Dad B.
Nov 16, 86: Gary and Deb ann.
It’s all very tidy, these notes marking life’s little tales. January has 4 Ds so far.
I can’t keep them straight in my head anymore.
When I’m old, as the Ds pile up, I’ll try to lose my
little book. People will forgive me for forgetting such things.
Next
People seem to die. My mood threatens to take hold and fling me to the ground.
Or not. That’s part of the problem with January. You just never know.
Maybe you’ll wake up to a warm sunny day, and you’re doing too much layering
for afternoon events. Or you might get a call from the hospital. We have some bad news.
I keep a little book of important dates, anniversaries and such. The notes are short:
Jan 18, 02: Mom D.
May 16, 26: Dad B.
Nov 16, 86: Gary and Deb ann.
It’s all very tidy, these notes marking life’s little tales. January has 4 Ds so far.
I can’t keep them straight in my head anymore.
When I’m old, as the Ds pile up, I’ll try to lose my
little book. People will forgive me for forgetting such things.
Next