Be My Guest / Spreading The Love / Week 3 / Day 5
Sound shared by: jw wilcox
Grateful Dead - Workingman’s Dead - Uncle John’s Band
Original words, by Danielle Lewis Wilcox -
At the top of the map was the acronym for the great lakes. The girl, sitting at her desk by a window, could point out the places where people she knew lived, places she had been: Christmas in Petoskey, where the tip of Michigan’s ring finger tapped the lake-water. The Upper Peninsula was where she camped in the summer and ate meat-filled pasties in the open trunk of a parked minivan. It looked like a woodpecker sleeping on its back. Sheboygen was in Wisconsin. Her Grandpa let her help land his green-striped Cessna on a dirt-covered runway there.
Her nose hovered above where Canada’s finger reached down and tapped Detroit. Here she was.
Here was her front yard. She raked leaves and threw them into a trailer latched to a riding lawn mower. She rode on the leaf pile her father drove to the vegetable garden, where they covered the plot with the leaves to decompose. Here she looked for salamanders, and here is where she found them.
Here is where her mother typed on a keyboard in a study with an ashtray near the screen. The girl sat under the desk and listened to sermons read aloud. Here is where she was asked her favorite part, and here is where she gave it.
Here is where she swam in Lake Michigan while her family slept on the rocky sand. She was cold in a pink one-piece swimsuit, and it was thin, and when she breathed her ribs spread apart like fingers opening and closing around a rock. Here is where she felt alone, and here is where she named it.
HOMES she wrote on the top of her map. This is my home. She laid her hand on the paper and filled in the shape of home.