Skip to main content

Featured

Hey, Lyosha

There are prison tattoos on the backs of his hands. Faded, blotchy shapes and a finger that jabs at a phone. "Hey, Lyosha!" He shouts, as every face on the bus swings to him. There is no answer, no voice on the other side. "Lyosha." He says again, then stares angrily out the windows. I step on someone's foot by accident, apologizing quickly. The young man waves his hand as if to say I did not need to say anything. The man with the tattoos sips from a giant cup of soda from KFC that is balanced on the empty seat next to him.

We pass a hotel we used to live next to, where expensive escorts are ferried in and out like yachts in a harbor. There is a fresh line of flags snapping in a low wind, and an American one is curiously absent. Plenty of the businessmen behind those windows are from the states.

The man brandishes the phone and hands it to the young man in front of me. I did not see that one coming. The young man wipes invisible dust from it, a reserved frown …

tonight



She is not here. Just her toys frozen in mid-play. Dolls asleep in makeshift beds. Lego worlds hibernating, waiting for E to return. I have her six days a week these days, a huge spread of time. We make music together, learn the English alphabet, enjoy a galaxy of overlapped moments. I answer a thousand questions a day now - like what the soul is, what air looks like, where babies come from.

On the one day she is not here, the silence is deep.

Five minutes away and I miss her already, the snow still wet on my coat from bringing her downstairs. I find a half-eaten chocolate on my chair. She left it for me.

Comments

Sweet Baby Voice..
Love.
Ella said…
Your lovely daughter has a beautiful voice. You are doing a great job raising her. Take it from a mother who has raised 3 outstanding children. My heart goes out to you.
Omgrrrl said…
So, obviously you were able to answer the question about what a Soul Is.
Rabbit blogger said…
the explanation of what and where the soul is was much easier than where babies come from. besides, E says babies come from tiny stars before they are inside mothers and it was hard to revise that.

we go to solfeggio classes at a very serious music school two times a week. she struggles there for a number of reasons. her mind works differently than this rote memorization stuff (big surprise). ironic she can still sing her little heart out.

Popular Posts

best personal blogs
best personal blogs