Rot

There is a big storm coming. Earlier today I gathered several tall candles and plenty of firewood. I brought out the old, creaky step stool so I could reach the top shelf in the closet. I pulled down the cardboard box labeled “winter clothing” in thick, black sharpie. Bulging. Unopened for at least a year. I took out my pocket knife and slashed across its masking tape seal. Hats, gloves, scarves all bled out. My old fuzzy earmuffs for ears that stick out a bit too much. A pair of men’s leather gloves. I shoved those back in.

There is a big storm coming. The meteorologist on TV droned on in the living room as I heated up dinner. Leftovers again. I tore through the garage earlier, looking for that old stack of canned soup. I hate soup, but the stores were all picked over, and I’m running out of the frozen meals my mom sent. I hadn’t been in the garage in a long time. The light flickers now. It’s colder than I remembered. The microwave beeped as the meteorologist gestured to an angry red blob on the map. I opened a can of food for the cat and poked at a plate of lasagna.

There is a big storm coming. I changed into pajamas silently as the wind picked up. There’s a pocket in the flannel pants where I’ve been keeping my knife every night. I listened to the wind howl as it whipped around the house. I used to love stormy nights. I crawled into bed. It’s such a big bed. I still sleep on the left side. I can’t bring myself to sleep in the middle. I lay quiet, listening to the beginning of the production outside in my oversized bed, knife in my pocket.

There is a big storm coming. And I hope it washes you away. I hope it cleans the memory of you from my skin, from my thoughts, from my heart. I imagine the big oak tree in the front yard crashing down through the dining table you built. I imagine water gushing through the hallway with framed photos of bright, smiling faces. I imagine snow and sleet and hail burying every little curio that I can’t bring myself to get rid of because it reminds me of you. And then, I imagine the storm burying me too.