Genevieve
She was as solid as the ground, no, she was as solid as a large piece of concrete buried in the ground; she was immovable by wind, rain or a million insects and impenetrable to a million opinions
She knew what she knew
Her legs were thick, and her intentions were straight, she walked with a mission to the mission we called Queen of Peace. Down the sidewalk, under the diseased elms, catty cornered across physical, cultural, and racial lines
She knew where she was going
I never did feel like I could catch her or catch up. If the sun was up, she was busy and when she was at task, I was directed elsewhere — when I reappeared it always smelled of something wonderful like creamed cabbage with caraway and bacon or fresh buttery peach pies
I grasped at the air around her for nearly forty years, too afraid to ask for the truth; what was the real story of her youth?
I was aware that fragments of her evidence were tucked all around — in the hot attic, into closet corners and in her blond mid-century drawers; shhhh I would tip toe on creaky floors
Beautiful things, tangled chains, china, and glass always pushed way to the back; she was an artist and the world switched out her frim fantasy for the greasy uniform of a Detroit tire factory
When I was twenty-five, we had an incredible week of country travels and frank discussions about me; I wanted to talk about her, not me and when we stopped at a cemetery I had never seen, she told me of her first love
The ground was damp and lumpy from intermittent growing and mowing and as we casually looked for her ‘friend’ Jack, I realized in that moment that heart break should not forever be disguised
The busy movements, the fixed habits, the one-liners that were repeated over and over – this too shall pass – could not, would not hide that crystal clear moment in the early morning September sun
My eyes fell heavy with water just like a fishing boat tilts after a saturating rain; my heart felt somehow burdened with the astonishment that young was still on the inside
She felt what she felt
The air was perfumed with an intoxicating mixture of clover and pine on the day we said goodbye; a few tiny toads leaped into the ground that was shaped like a casket