As She Watches Me Now

photo by sophie mcleod

As She Watches Me Now

second year erin o’keefe

I cut the head off of yet another dead daffodil and sigh as I cast it to the side. You have to make room for the new by getting rid of the old, otherwise all the flowers in the bed will be dead. I care for the flowers, for I am all they have left. Same goes for the dusty window panes, the abundance of feral– yet domesticated– cats, the old gray car parked out front, the kitchen, craving to be filled with smells of fresh baked bread again, the olive and lemon trees out back, and everything else that was left behind when she left. Though, I suppose… if these things were truly left behind then they would be orphans, without a parent. Without a caretaker. They are not though, for I am their owner now. And I love them so. 

Sweat drips off the tip of my nose signifying that it is time I take a break. It is hotter today than it has been all summer. I grew up in this heat, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t sick of it. Still, I embrace the feeling. I push off my knees and lay my rusty set of clippers in the straw basket as I scan over the bed, admiring my work. I feel my chest tighten, but only for a minute. 

I tread softly, barefoot, in the soft soil as I make my way out of the garden towards my drippy glass of water. My foot steps on something round, wooden, and spikey on the way and I make a small sound of discomfort before moving on. I raise the glass to my lips and sip some of the icy water. I threw a fresh cut lemon and some mint from the herb box in it today to add some flavor. I prefer it this way. Plain water is too dull. I set the glass, which is more of an old jar than it is a proper cup, back down on the small, ceramic table. I cover my knuckles with one calloused palm and press down, listening to them crack in the way I often do. Some habits are harder to break than others, I have learned. Like my habit of waking up each morning and making enough coffee for two: difficult to break. But my habit of biting my nails when I was a child: easy to break. It was easy because as a child all I needed was a scolding from her and that was it. I was done with whatever she told me to be done with, for that was all I needed. And with no one to tell me to stop anymore, I can’t stop. I have no self-discipline. She was my only crutch, and now I’m limping all alone through life without her.

 I decide to go inside to cool off and then forget, again, of the lack of AC in the old house. Just another thing I always took for granted while I was still at my parents’. I will go swimming, then. I strip off my overalls and put on a cropped tank and black underwear, for lack of a proper swimming suit. I should make one. I could now?— No, maybe tomorrow. I pull on an old, yellowing, white tennis skirt and my sneakers. I’m going to run to the pond. Jogging gets me places faster. Sometimes, I simply don’t have the patience to walk. It also gives me too much time to think. 

I hum some made up song as I hop down the steps to the door, not bothering to lock it behind me, and set off down the gravel path of the front drive, taking a right once I reach the road. It’s hardly noon and already the heat is thick in a way that only summers here are. There are tall grasses on either side of me. No cars are out today. I huff, my lungs unused to the strain of my pace, but I don’t slow. The faster I run, the sooner this will be over and I can subside in the cool, clean waters of the shaded pond I love so much. She would take me and my siblings there at least once a day when we were young. It is where we would spend most of our time together, as the four of us. I was scared to swim in it back then because once my brother swore he saw a snake. I am not afraid of snakes anymore. There are worse things. 

By the time I reach the wooded area that conceals the water, I am already drenched. None of the other locals are here today. Just me and the birds and the cicadas. The water is high today, thanks to last night’s storm. I hate the rain when it comes but I am always thankful after. I discard my shorts and jump in from off the side of the small, trench like border that edges the water. I let myself sink for a moment before pushing my body back up to the surface with one foot launching off the murky floor. I paddle out to the center and float around till maybe 1 o’clock.