By Huina Zheng
I looked at the hole in the grey sofa’s armrest, revealing a yellow sponge inside.
“Should I throw it away?” I muttered to myself.
It was a gift from my mother. Here, my family and I snuggled to watch TV.
I heard a voice, “It’ll only remind you of how bad things are.” I hesitated.
My mother, with Parkinson’s, didn’t recognize me. I divorced ten years ago, lost my job last year, had a hysterectomy this month, and my daughter had stopped speaking to me.
I sewed lace over the hole; it looked beautiful. Finally, I could cover what was broken.
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Thanks for offering such a sensitive and uplifting resolution to the dilemma.
I love the double meaning of the last sentence. Nice!
I enjoyed the analogy. And felt the narrator’s pain.
Hello Huina,
So lyrical. Like poetry written in free verse. Wonderful.
Beautiful read… chapeau…