Thursday, October 29, 2009

Your Own Personal Sunshine

One day it slipped under my umbrella--a basketball-sized yolk that nudged the handle out of my hand and when I squinted up at it, I had to admit the rain had stopped falling. Puddles receded, nay recoiled from my once-wet feet and around me suddenly everything was a-something, achirp, aflutter. I was afraid. Where was my taxidermist version of the world--trees gnarled with scruples, antlers of impossible choices mounted on the wall? Pollen-specks of sunshine were impinging on my white catastrophe dress. That's when I did it. I pushed that yellow provocateur--never mind my sizzling palms--through the door of a lighting store. Let it feel like everyone else.

-Matthea Harvey