Tell me a simple story

Day 3: Tell me a simple story


“He was stillborn”, she said
“A cord accident”, they said

Keys, pedal, drive
30 miles that felt like 2 minutes
How did I get here?
I don’t remember driving
Muscle memory

Running across the gravel drive
As futile as trying to jog on the beach
My fist met her 12 foot solid oak door

She’s old enough to be my mother
According to the date on her driver’s license
But here we are
Two women
A moment in time

I held her
Hours after her grandbaby died
Deegan, a boy

“I’m sorry”, I said
I don’t now what to say
“Come here”, I said, pulling her into my arms
I love you


“I’m pregnant”, she said
“Um…we should talk”, I said
Are you free right now?
Let’s go for a walk.

We lived on the same street
Yet hadn’t really spoken in 14 months
We’d been polite
But we’d had a fight
That distanced us for over a year

Sisters, we are
By choice

The crispy evening breeze
March in Phoenix
The bustle of downtown
The energy moving
As we walk and release
The open air music festival
As the soundtrack
The cool concrete church steps
As the setting

“You’re selfish”, I said
“I know”, she said
I’m sorry
I don’t know what to say
I love you


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