Issue #54


Authors

The Way She Was

After setting her tea aside to steep and buttering her toast, the elderly woman sat at her kitchen table to read the newspaper. She thumbed through the front page, the home and garden section, and the beginnings of the sports section without incident, yet was soon horrified by an innocent and unassuming column—an obituary titled with her own name. When the elderly woman leaned in close to the paper so her ailing eyes could see it clearly, she read:

Rosemary Salvia, age 78, lost her memory in her home on November 22, 1976. It began with her left socks and reading glasses, and was soon followed by her postage stamps, the plots of fairy tales, and her nephew’s birthday. Rosemary proceeded to forget to throw salt over her shoulders, to keep a lookout for migrating dragons in the Fall and Spring, and to leave out offerings to the brownies who cleaned her house. She can no longer recall what she learned in her college ceramics class nor that her beloved husband of 53 years, Rowan, passed away on December 22, 1974. Rosemary’s memory is survived by her love of tea, proficiency in harp playing, and ability to whistle birdsongs. She will be remembered best by her nephew for her propensity to buy him ugly winter sweaters, by the brownies for her honey-drizzled bowls of cream, and by her husband’s ghost for baking the fruitcake that killed him. Her memory will be interred in her closet this afternoon with a reception to follow at the dust bunnies dance hall, where refreshments will be provided by the attic rats. In honor of her, please make donations out to the man in the moon, who is very lonely on account of her forgetting to write.

When the elderly woman finished reading the obituary, she made up her mind to compose a letter to the editor thoroughly expressing her indignation at these falsehoods. When she finished transcribing it, the letter was perfect: her handwriting clear, her argument infallible, her organization impeccable! The elderly woman sealed the letter and wrote the address on the envelope, but was ultimately unable to send it. She had forgotten where she put her stamps.

 

Civil Disobedience - Harajuku, Tokyo

I Do Not Know Where Home Is