The Last Story

Your Mother's Life is in This Paint

Tracy
The paint is drying
your mother is dying

when we started this room
i didn't know you at all, it seems
we taped the windows,
the doors,
the slow, sticky taping

you gradually began to unfold your story
to me
i smiled and taped
feeling the carpet on my bare feet
the fan on my back
and the sticky blue tape

your mother was always depressed
she was a pack rat
you couldn't wait to get out of the house when you were old enough
and we slowly taped, taped
i listened

we were to finish the paint tomorrow
it is slowly drying
but one short phone call
and your mother is dying

your words still stuck in the paint on the wall
the stories you told, mother and all

when this job is done
your mother will be gone
and i feel selfish, and helpless
because i stole that story,
the last story you will ever tell anyone about how your mother IS.

Published by Tracy

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2 Comments

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  • cathiesblogs8/7/2008

    So sad !!...but beautifully told !!!

  • Phylis8/1/2008

    Beautiful and sensitive. I even like that you didn't dot the i's. It makes the story more important. There's a lot of power in the word "IS" as well. I love your writing.

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