I.
A
rare, perfect moment, the kind people constantly scour their childhoods for,
and
that it happened in my adolescence makes it more amazing;
My
sister and brother-in-law visiting from New
York
Mom
grilled hot dogs and hamburgers for dinner;
We
all laughed and talked while we ate until the sky darkened,
as
it is wont to do in the summer evenings in Maryland
And
then the rain came in big, fat drops;
Plop,
plop, plop;
Inside,
we played board games and talked and laughed and stayed up much too late;
Outside,
thunder came and went;
Finally,
we all headed off to bed;
And
after teeth were brushed and pajamas put on and blankets crawled under,
the
lights went out and it was pitch in our suburban house,
without
ambient house lights inside and street lights outside;
My
mother, my sister and I did not just fall asleep in the perfect darkness;
We
did not roll over and listen to the thunder;
My
mother, my sister and I crawled out of bed and made our way downstairs;
We
all got candles, but the only candles we could find were long, thin tapers;
And
there were no candleholders to be found;
I
don’t know who first looked to the watermelon that was sitting on the counter;
I
don’t know who first picked up the knife;
But
soon, there were three candles sitting in that forgotten desert;
And
we laughed so hard,
so
hard we had tears running down our faces,
so
hard I thought my bladder would burst,
so
hard we did not hear the footsteps coming down the stairs;
My
brother-in-law asked what was going on;
We
pointed to the watermelon and started laughing even harder,
my
mother and my sister holding on to the counter and each other
in
order to keep themselves standing,
and
me, doubled over and doing that Gotta Pee Dance;
And
he just looked at us, as if we were insane
II.
I
was sifting through insomnia when the electricity withdrew;
My
husband slept soundly next to me;
No
storm brought this,
No
reason I could fathom,
Except
Com Ed sucks;
The
motion sensitive light outside no longer lit up at the movement
of
squirrels and stray cats;
The
white noise of the air filter was gone,
letting
in the noises of the city
and
the house;
Every
creak and groan of the old brownstone
made
me jump;
And
shadows in the light from the pollution filled sky,
which
reflects the neon from blocks away
made
me wary;
Was
somebody breaking in?
Or
is it just one of the pets wandering around,
as
they must do every night?
The
I-Could-Fall-Asleep-At-Any-Moment thoughts leave
and
I am wide awake,
listening
to my husband’s even, slightly whistling, snores
and
the moans the indicate the cat is stretching, the rabbit is playing,
or
the killers are coming to get me;
I
don’t want to leave my bed,
though
it might provide reassurance,
because
it also might confirm my worst fears;
And
my mother told me to never ask questions
which
I don’t really want to know the answers to;
Light
and noise flicker;
Husband
stirs and rolls over and sleeps again;
Darkness
settles in again;
I
sit up,
waiting
for whatever intruder I’ve imagined to appear,
and
stay that way for the next five hours
