Page 88

30 On the first day of your 30th year you’ll want to make a statementsomething sweet, yet sassy enough to command the lines around your eyes to smooth over. But when you wake, you’ll toss one arm across those eyes and wish for more sleep because the baby is cutting teeth and you were up five times last night. When the third decade rings its tarnished bell you’ll want to sit quietly in a café by the sea, sipping coffee, writing bad poetry, but your driveway has half collapsed, needs fixing, and you live too many miles from the sea anyway. You’ll wish the murky runoff collecting in the ditch, stirring up worms and rusty soda cans, was the cool bite of salt water at your toes. When the late morning heat has pinched your cheeks you’ll stand on a metal chair twisting a lightbulb above your head and you’ll wonder if the electricity will sense your age and faulty wisdom, run down your arm and through your chest, give you a new buzz for life. And then you’ll walk to the garden behind the house, behold the cilantro bolting skyward, and curse the heat. The clock stopped yesterday when you were still 29. Next door, your 80-year-old neighbor will be flicking his cane at the chickens and laughing a high pitch, and you’ll smile and wave because everything is all right, and the driveway still needs fixing. ~ Amy Raposo

81

Summer 2014 Volume 2, Issue 2

Profile for FLAR

FLR the Anthology 2013 - 2014  

A compilation of the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Volumes 1 and 2 (2013-2014)

FLR the Anthology 2013 - 2014  

A compilation of the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Volumes 1 and 2 (2013-2014)

Profile for amybayne