the house had been filled with the noises of packing since late morning
tape being unrolled and ripped along the jagged edge of its dispenser
sighs from the solitary packer
three mountains of flat cardboard have become containers
surrounded by bulging boxes now
he's almost finished
he makes another box that will carry the contents of the last end table
as he lifts the back-hinged lid the scent reminds him of his childhood
this table has lived longer than he
an eight-year-old unfinished project lies among the chisels and small saws
Welsh love spoons that he'd carved on the balcony of his tiny apartment
during the hours that he spent on the phone with the girl
they are a gift never given, a blessing on the marriage of his friend
a union long ended, he tosses them into the waste bin
and seals this last box
upstairs he searches for items that escaped the first round and finds none
he sits on the naked bed and reviews his six years here
he can't help but think of her - the girl who bought the house with him
she would rescue the spoons from the garbage and tell him to finish them
that the completion would bring something good and lovely to him
yeah and she's crazy he mutters
downstairs he looks at the boxes - his life in cardboard
he takes the trash out to the curb, grins and reaches in
what the hell, he thinks, maybe...
tape being unrolled and ripped along the jagged edge of its dispenser
sighs from the solitary packer
three mountains of flat cardboard have become containers
surrounded by bulging boxes now
he's almost finished
he makes another box that will carry the contents of the last end table
as he lifts the back-hinged lid the scent reminds him of his childhood
this table has lived longer than he
an eight-year-old unfinished project lies among the chisels and small saws
Welsh love spoons that he'd carved on the balcony of his tiny apartment
during the hours that he spent on the phone with the girl
they are a gift never given, a blessing on the marriage of his friend
a union long ended, he tosses them into the waste bin
and seals this last box
upstairs he searches for items that escaped the first round and finds none
he sits on the naked bed and reviews his six years here
he can't help but think of her - the girl who bought the house with him
she would rescue the spoons from the garbage and tell him to finish them
that the completion would bring something good and lovely to him
yeah and she's crazy he mutters
downstairs he looks at the boxes - his life in cardboard
he takes the trash out to the curb, grins and reaches in
what the hell, he thinks, maybe...
Comments
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I wasn't sure that's what they were called! Had to Google Image it. I'd seen them at a woodcarving show years ago, and always remembered them.
You know you have to finish this story! Does he carve them? What happens if he does? Hmmm... I'm reminded of "The Christmas Miracle of Jonathon Toomey", a *beautiful* Christmas book that had me, the ex-husband and both boys in tears the first time we read it. I'm going to be thinking about this guy and his spoons!! Great story!
Thanks! I'm glad you like it. It's been hanging out in my head for quite some time. I didn't know what the spoons were called either - I also had to look it up. I like the idea of not knowing if he finishes them or not, leaves the reader drawing her own conclusions. If you wanna add here what you think he should do that would be fun. I'll look for the Christmas book. I hope that you and the boys are enjoying the summer!!
xo, mka :)
Yummy, rich, ooh ah! I like "the naked bed" and "his life in cardboard." Way to go, MKA...she's baaaaack!
love,
Sarah (have a great retreat!)
barb.
Thanks so much. It's good to be back.
:) mka
I love Margaret Atwood!!! Thanks.
xo, mka