“Oh dearie”, said my grandmother, as she put in her wet curlers wedged in the bathroom door, with only a non-supportive, only fabric, basically naked colored bra, 2 sizes too small for her old damaged sun-spotted skin popping out of the top of the ripped lace. Her toenails still wet with bright magenta, and smells of tater tots deep frying in the hallway.
“I’ve got something to tell you”, as she swigged her shot of wiskey, gasping from the glass. Ice cubes clinked the inside of the glass as loud as her dentures, grinding out, “I found this in the attic”. She held out a paper thick covered dust shet of fabric, as old as the giblets hanging from her chin. She plucked a hair from her growing mole in the center of her chin, “I didn’t have time to wrap this, but it should work for you. You’ve got nothing better to do. Go up and hang these somewhere nice, so you can get out of this place. You know you can’t live in the basement forever. I mean it’s starting to mold down there, if you know what I mean”,
“You know grandmas got a hot date tonight, and he might come a knocking on my front door. So you scurry, and get out of this place while you still can, dearie”. Throwing the fabric, thump it hit my chest. Fog filled dust clouds expanded my lungs. Hacking, I spewed old mucus onto the new and curtains.
I can only imagine the beds that these curtains have shaded for my grandmother’s escapades. Now these curtains shade away the morning mist, taking away the dew, and replacing it with a loving friend. Feeling the curtains against my forehead, peace sways my body drifting against the window pillows. Morning prepares to awaken along with me.