Spring

by Arda Collins

I was making a roast.The smell wafted from the kitchen into the living room,through the yellow curtains and into the sunlight.Bread warmed in the oven,and in my oven mitt, I managed to forgetthat I’d ever punched someone in the face.It seemed so long ago, I might not even have done it.I went out into the yard before darkand saw last year’s rake on the lawn.It was a cheap metal onethat tore up the old grass.I did that for a while.When I went back in the house,the roast was burned blackand the bread was hard.I sat on the couch and watched it get dark.I was getting hungry, but I felt afraidof seeing the refrigerator light go on.Then I would have to turn on other lights,and then what would I do?I heard a car pass once in a while.I thought about a time on vacationwhen I bought a newspaper and tomatoesfrom a supermarket I’d never heard of.I remembered an old bathing suit I had,but I couldn’t think of what happened to it.I could move away.I could get in the car right nowand drive all night,as soon as I had a sandwich.Turkey, tomato, mayo,Swiss, lettuce. It was exciting.I still had my shoes on. I drove to a truck stop.It was bright inside and I loved the world.I bought a sandwich and ate it from my lap while I drove.When I pulled up to my house it was quiet. 

 

"Spring" from "It Is Daylight" by Arda Collins. Copyright © 2009 Yale University Press.