We Are All So Good at Smiling by Amber McBride EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Amber McBride
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Fiction about Mental Illness
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
WHIMSY COMES HOME
Tea Leaves: Hourglass
Imminent danger. RUN!
Back Home on Marsh Creek Lane
I’ve been home long enough for the moon to be showing off (again), bluehueing above the sleepy streets of Marsh Creek Lane & my thoughts have
gone wolf (again) roaming—needlessly crafting innocent shadows into toil
& trouble.
My crystals moon-bathe on my windowsill, Pink Opal, Blue Goldstone,
Tiger’s Eye & Amethyst cleanse themselves, washing my negative energy
from their pores. On the altar below my window, a box of herbs & a white
plate with an offering.
As for Me (Whimsy), I nestle in my bed, covers pulled under my chin,
inside my gray-brick house that is sandwiched, like an ice cream center,
between other homes. Outside, streetlights, spaced ten feet apart, spotlight
the sidewalk like a guilty crime scene.
Inside my room, notebooks gorged with stories & books stuffed with Fairy
Tales sit in stacks, like scattered stumps without branches. It is strange,
despite my being gone for 2 weeks, nothing has changed in my room.
Down the hall, filled with family portraits: Grandma (gone 9 years); Mom,
Dad, Brother (named Cole, allegedly MIA 10 years) & Me (Whimsy). My
parents sleep well with me within earshot (again). I think it is too loud; the
crickets outside gossip too much.
I raise my sleep-soggy body from bed, haul open my moonlit window to
yell, Enough with the chirping. We get it, you’re joyful with sound. Of
course, the crickets answer in a crescendo threatening some sort of plague.
I don’t mind plagues, so I push the window all the way open & step
(barefoot) onto the flat roof. I sit with my back pressed to the bricks & close
my eyes & listen & listen—to the chirps & the resonant hoots of owls.
The moonbeams bathe my face, & on nights like this, when the moon is big,
I swear I feel Grandma in the shimmer hugging me tightly—holding me
together. It feels like Grandma was reincarnated as the yellow light of moon
rays.
In a few hours, the house will yawn & wake, the crickets will hush to sleep
—Mom will come into my room & say, Honey, did you sleep well? &
watch me closely for signs. I’ll say, Yes, with bloodshot eyes & she will
know I’m lying.
I’ll blame my sleeplessness on the strange moon, on the crystals vibrating
loudly on my windowsill. I’ll mention the ancestors visiting & wanting to
talk. Mom will cross her arms & say, The ancestors want you to rest. I’ll
nod & stir my tea.
I’ll think of Grandma—dirt always thick under her nails— saying, You have
strong magic, child, it will make you feel many things. Grandma knew
magic better than magic knew itself. She predicted her death to the hour
saying, Here she comes, on her black horse.
Mornings, Dad will make pancakes & fried eggs. He’ll smile widely, but it
won’t reach his eyes. I’ll read my leaves closely before I jump on a bus that
will ferry me to hell. I’ll eat & smile & push the guilt down with syrup &
juice, which makes it palatable.
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