After Abie falls asleep I drive home
and leave him in the car long enough
to take the groceries in, then
come back out and carry him
upstairs--noticing, as I lay him
down on his bed, that somewhere
along the way he's lost his pacifier.
This is serious. It could be
anywhere. And he needs it.
I remind myself to look later,
to retrace my steps from his
bedroom door, back down
the stairs and outside to the car.
I go to the kitchen and begin putting
groceries away. The spice rack falls
off the wall. A partially open jar
of cayenne pepper spills into a bowl
of shelled pecans. As I throw
the pecans away, I stop at
the kitchen window and look out
and there, lying on the black
asphalt tongue of the driveway,
I see Abie's pacifier... Small...
Pale... Soft... Like a newborn ear.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
After Abie falls asleep I drive home
and leave him in the car long enough
to take the groceries in, then
come back out and carry him
upstairs--noticing, as I lay him
down on his bed, that somewhere
along the way he's lost his pacifier.
This is serious. It could be
anywhere. And he needs it.
I remind myself to look later,
to retrace my steps from his
bedroom door, back down
the stairs and outside to the car.
I go to the kitchen and begin putting
groceries away. The spice rack falls
off the wall. A partially open jar
of cayenne pepper spills into a bowl
of shelled pecans. As I throw
the pecans away, I stop at
the kitchen window and look out
and there, lying on the black
asphalt tongue of the driveway,
I see Abie's pacifier... Small...
Pale... Soft... Like a newborn ear.
