Winter Season

Poem

Oscar had left for work. Esther yawned and stretched herself to the bathroom. She noticed a notebook on the back of the commode. Oscar was leaving little things at her house. This notebook for example. Was this the proper way of easing into having someone live with you? A little at a time? Or should she shoo him out until they were married so they could just jump in with both feet?

“Why would he want to live with me? She questioned to herself as she sat down on the commode. “His house is bigger. I’m sure he has his house just the way he wants things. Why do men always have reading material in the bathroom?” She wondered, thumbing through the pages.

The page read:

Shrinking out of sight

Last night as I was laying in my bed; trying to go to sleep, I remember from my youth a dream.

It concerned me to the point of a scream.

~

I remember all the objects seemed to get bigger.

The reverse in me, trigger.

~

Shrinking always.

Objects growing. Me shrinking. Fear, explore the ways.

~

Felt weird. Strange.

Maybe I was deranged?

~

Smaller. And smaller. Shrinking out of sight.

Always I woke myself, with all my might.

~

Where was I going?

With me, my dreams were toying?

~

Multiple times over my youth this dream did appear.

Always creating in me a fear.

~

Fear of what?

I forgot.

~

Disappearing? Maybe I felt like no one cared?

Scared?

~

Maybe I felt like the world was too big?

Life was a rig?

~

A cheat?

Something I couldn’t beat.

~

An illusion?

Was this my final conclusion?

~

As an adult,I haven’t had that dream.

What could it all mean?

2022

As they sat down to dinner she said, “I owe you an apology.”

He was stunned, “for?”

“You left a notebook in the bathroom and I read some of it.”

He knew she would find it. Maybe he wanted her to? Maybe he wanted to share this part of his life with her too. “What did you think?”

“How long have you been writing poetry?”

“All my life.”

“You should start a blog. You should share this.”

“No one is interested in reading my..” What was the word? He lost it.

She said sweetly, “I know you didn’t mean to share this with me. It would give me great pleasure to read your work.”

He looked deep into her eyes. She was being sincere. She wasn’t making fun of him. “It’s another one of those things Oat uses to call me ‘one of dem homos’.”

“That’s his loss because you have talent. Have you ever entered any contests?”

“Heavens no.” He gruffed his voice, “you’re a science teacher Mr. Patterson.”

“Please tell me no one said that to you.”

He gave her a sideways grin. “They haven’t.”

“But it was a hurtful comment about something and it plays through your mind.”

“Yeah.”

“How often did you have that dream?”

“Maybe once a month.”

“It sounds like it was disconcerting.”

“It was.”

Winter Season