Letter to Me
Violet Bukowski
Somethings are perfect just the way they are, even in the middle of a tragedy.
My mother was digging her closet for something to wear as I sat on her bed. I felt nine again when I'd watch her try to pick out something to wear when her and daddy where going out. But I'm not nine, and this time she's looking for something for me to wear.
She passes me a black dress that is soft in my hands, when she's sure I'm not going to let the dress slip through my fingers and land on the carpeted floor, she passes me a pair on flats. She caress my cheek as she passes smiling slightly.
When I finally put on the dress I look at myself in the mirror, the dress goes a little past my knees, it has long black sleeves and a modest V – neck if there is such a thing, not that I have a lot to display in that area.
I tilt my head to the side trying to recognize the girl in the mirror. There's no smile on her face, no crinkles in the side of her eyes, that used to look alive. I have shadows under my eyes, they seem to be weighing down my whole face.
I look older, I realized reeling back from the mirror.
“If anyone knows anything, it would be highly appreciated if they contacted there local police.” The radio fuzzed and sizzled coming in and out of the radio and the one that was coming from the police cruiser in front of me.
I laughed as I listened to the police debate what coffee shop to meet up at. When the radio came back a song filled my car.
There's something about church's that has always sent a shiver up my spine. Graveyards make me think of past lives not ghosts. My family has never been very religious, yet my reaction to churches is always a fusion of awe and chills.
I don't know how long I stood there staring at the place in the ground they had just buried her. I can faintly remember my mother patting my shoulder as she passed, en circled by her family. My father holding onto her hand like he was the only thing anchoring her to the ground.
When the clouds started to block out the sun and thunder rolled through my limbs seemed awake. Slowly I turned away saying my silent goodbyes. Light droplets of cold rain rose goosebumps along my neck.
Turning I ran right into him, his chest smelled exactly how I remembered, his arms en circled me. And for the first time I allowed myself to cry.
My mother was digging her closet for something to wear as I sat on her bed. I felt nine again when I'd watch her try to pick out something to wear when her and daddy where going out. But I'm not nine, and this time she's looking for something for me to wear.
She passes me a black dress that is soft in my hands, when she's sure I'm not going to let the dress slip through my fingers and land on the carpeted floor, she passes me a pair on flats. She caress my cheek as she passes smiling slightly.
When I finally put on the dress I look at myself in the mirror, the dress goes a little past my knees, it has long black sleeves and a modest V – neck if there is such a thing, not that I have a lot to display in that area.
I tilt my head to the side trying to recognize the girl in the mirror. There's no smile on her face, no crinkles in the side of her eyes, that used to look alive. I have shadows under my eyes, they seem to be weighing down my whole face.
I look older, I realized reeling back from the mirror.
“If anyone knows anything, it would be highly appreciated if they contacted there local police.” The radio fuzzed and sizzled coming in and out of the radio and the one that was coming from the police cruiser in front of me.
I laughed as I listened to the police debate what coffee shop to meet up at. When the radio came back a song filled my car.
There's something about church's that has always sent a shiver up my spine. Graveyards make me think of past lives not ghosts. My family has never been very religious, yet my reaction to churches is always a fusion of awe and chills.
I don't know how long I stood there staring at the place in the ground they had just buried her. I can faintly remember my mother patting my shoulder as she passed, en circled by her family. My father holding onto her hand like he was the only thing anchoring her to the ground.
When the clouds started to block out the sun and thunder rolled through my limbs seemed awake. Slowly I turned away saying my silent goodbyes. Light droplets of cold rain rose goosebumps along my neck.
Turning I ran right into him, his chest smelled exactly how I remembered, his arms en circled me. And for the first time I allowed myself to cry.