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Tiny Little May 2023
Inspired by my Great Uncle, Som Nath Zutshi (Author/Playwright)
Tiny Little May 2023
Inspired by my Great Uncle, Som Nath Zutshi (Author/Playwright)
Mirriam didn’t sit on the porch often. In fact, today was one of the few days this week that she had found the time to do so.
As a newly christened mother, she had been treated with fragility by her nerve-wracked husband. Almost immediately after their return, he had excused himself to the bathroom. Though Mirriam could not have heard it, having been settled down in their shared bedroom on the other side of the house, she was almost certain that there had been a round of retching. She had only been able to spare a fleeting thought of concern before she herself fell into the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness. Rosaline, their newborn baby, tucked between the cleft of her elbow and chin.
Rosaline.
Her darling child’s name had been decided long before her birth. Mirriam’s mother, who had passed away only a year before, had been named the same, and it had been her dying wish to see Mirriam happy with a child of her own. Though Mirriam had never given motherhood much thought, she had known then that if she ever had a little girl, her namesake would be that of her late grandmother’s. It had taken cajoling, for Martha (the detested mother-in-law) had advocated fervently for Beatrice. But when Mirriam had her mind set on something, no one could dissuade her of it, something her poor husband Charles began to understand only after the wedding.
“Mirrie?”
Mirriam startled, her rocking chair shuddering underneath her. She felt a pain in her abdomen, less sharp than it had been before, but still present. As it ebbed away, Mirriam let out the air she had been holding in her lungs, feeling her lips tingle as sensation returned.
“Yes Charles?” She replied. “What are you doing up so early? Is it Rosaline?”
There was a sharp inhale behind her, soon drowned out by a gust of wind that sent her brown hair twisting in the evening light. How beautiful it was. The sun was almost gone, dipping beneath the trees. It cast shadows unto the clouds above in halos of pinks and oranges. For a moment, Mirriam thought she could spot the wings of a little cherub, its mischievous eyes twinkling in the heavens.
“No. No, it isn’t Rosaline sweetheart.” Charles began, his voice oddly thready. Mirriam felt an emptiness open up in her midsection, swallowing up the pain. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s getting chilly.”
“Oh I will in a second dear. I just needed some peace and quiet.”
Charles sighed. He was far closer than Mirriam had thought, as the warmth of his breath kissed the back of her neck. A hand landed upon her shoulder, and she was pecked on the cheek by weathered lips. They stung, like salt in a wound, and for the first time Mirriam realized how cold she was.
“Charles?”
“Yes darling?”
“Can you bring Rosaline outside? I know she’s a bit temperamental, but perhaps the fresh air will do her some good.”
“I’m sure it would, dear.” Charles replied, and Mirriam was horrified to hear a thickness in his voice. The hole in her stomach grew larger, encroaching upon the intestines. Beside her, Charles seemed to choke on his own voice. Then, much to her amazement, he began to sob.
Turning toward her husband, Mirriam found herself staring into the eyes of a man she did not know. He was skinnier than she remembered, his collarbones protruding from yellowed flesh. His eyes were rheumy, brimming with fluid, and his nose and cheeks flushed a deep orchard red. He wore a coat, mittens and a hat, and seemed to shiver as the sun set behind the Rockies.
“What’s wrong Charlie?” Mirriam asked, askance. “Why are you dressed for a storm? We’re in the middle of spring dear.”
Another sob. One of Charles’s hands clasped over his mouth and he curled inward. Mirriam felt her bones ache, the chair under her screeching as the wind picked up. The cherub in the sky faded away as the last strings of light fell beneath the peaks of the Rockies.
“No my dear.” Charles spoke, his voice muffled and far away. “You’re mistaken. It’s not spring. It hasn’t been for a while now.”
Mirriam felt saliva pool in her mouth. Swallowing heavily, her tongue darted out to lick her lips. They were chapped, peeling. Her nose tingled with the motion.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Mirriam murmured. She was adrift. A ship at sea without its North Star.
“It’s snowing Mirrie.” Charles was crying and Mirriam stared at the tear that hung desperately to the end of his long nose. “It’s snowing.”
Turning her head, Mirriam found she could not see the mountains. In fact, she could hardly see anything at all. It was obscured by the frenzied fall of flurried flakes. One landed on her right eyelash, melting against the furnace of her skin.
The emptiness in her stomach crawled and creeped. As she stared into the storm, it ate her heart.
“Mirrie?” Charles murmured, his voice sorrowful. “You understand, don’t you? Please don’t make me say it.”
Mirriam blinked. Looking down, she saw a towel spread across her lap. It had tiny little feet-prints and tiny little hand-prints. She had stolen it from the hospital. She hadn’t been given one of her own, like all the other mothers that had given birth there.
“Yes.” Her hands clenched into the blanket, twisting it and emphasizing the creases made from repeated abuse. “I understand.”
Charles sighed. Turning towards the mountains, he intertwined his hands with his wife's.
“You always do.”
Poems
Poems
Mama Said Apr 2022
‘It’s dark outside, now’ Mama used to say,
‘Time to come in. Time to end the day’
You’d stare up at the stars, ever so far;
Burning balls of fire, alight in the sky;
Only one jump away, one last flight—
‘Come to bed’ Mama said;
So you turned around,
Clambered back into the house, with nary a sound;
Tucked under your covers,
Safe from the night;
Only then, alone, can your dreams truly take flight.
Lizard Blizzard Dec 2021
The Summer heat made me glee
For I am the native of the desert free
I roam the sands and race the rocks for bugs
Finding food is never easy, but hunting together you can land a few slugs
Life's good in mother nature's cocoon
But no one’s seen the future, and all was about to change soon
Day of the clouds was upon us, hiding the Sun
Cotton balls reigned from the sky, and to the shelters we run
The wise ones once warned about the day when the lands would turn white
The life of a lizard would change forever, and would we give up without a fight?
The cold was new and made us all freeze
Scared and dreary, the ranks of lizards get sick and sneeze
Snow was everywhere and it was difficult to thrive
But we decided to persevere and change things to survive
We hid under leaves and dug holes in the soil
Found a way to live, not over but under the ground we coil
We saw this blizzard through, and many more that followed
Such is the will to live, in the snow we wallowed!
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