Fragile as Hope
We’re all set for the party. The family loves an excuse for a get-together. Chocolate cake. A must for this family. All the party foods lined up on the buffet. Finger sandwiches with paprika. (Why? Can you really taste it?) Chips, dip, squares of cheese, crackers, ham, pork roast, beans, chili (with a disclaimer about the bear meat for the squeamish). Birthday decorations, but no black, even though she’s sixty. No black.
Here she comes! Surprise! I hope she doesn’t mind. I would. I hate surprises, even good ones. I need more control over my life. God, she’s thin. Tears in her eyes as she sees all her friends and family, but laughing. I put my arm around her. Feel her bones under my hand. Guide her into the room. Point out friends from the campground. Somebody get her a glass of wine. I’ll have one with her.
Here we are for the pictures. Old Dad with his cane. Happy to have so much of his family in one place. The crazy brother. Already with his hat on backwards and huge crazy sunglasses he found somewhere. The quiet brother, happy to be in the background, drinking soda, knowing he will once again drive the crazy, fun loving brother home. The other two sisters and me, smiles plastered, making sure the food is set, the people are having drinks, the cake candles are lit.
And the birthday girl. Thin. Hair just starting to fall out. Each breath an audible drawing in.
I should be able to help her with this. I’ve survived it. I’ve helped her through other things in our life. She’s older, she’s smarter, she’s always been more talented. But she’s fragile. As fragile as hope. Always has been. I’m the strong, tall, athletic one. She’s mentally fragile. There's a medication for Failure to Cope. We laughed when the doctor put her on a pill for that. She's physically fragile. She’s never been healthy. Always smoked too much, drank too much. Chased demons that I never understood.
Tomorrow, she’ll do the next round of chemo. She’ll call me. We’ll talk of hair and eyelashes. And fragile hope.
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This is nicely restrained, reined-in. You've got a good sense here of what the reader needs, what information is not important.
ReplyDeleteKeeping a piece about big things (which this is) close to home and down to earth (with paprika, silly glasses, bear meat, etc) is vital to establish tone and not drive the reader off with big windy Thoughts. You have no problem whatsoever with that kind of Big Thought. overreaching.
It also works to have this told in the first person and as if in present time.
There is no 'But...' coming! I have no advice or suggestions; think this is on a level with last week's, where I also had no suggestions or advice.