I caved and submitted a story to Tributaries the other day. Its part of the cycle I was working on last semester so its a bit out of context, but I liked it. I’ll go ahead and post it here. My other entry was one of the poems I posted last year. A little old, I admit, but I haven’t done anything new with poetry in a while and I wanted to submit both poetry and prose.
What Mom Said
Sara was startled from her dreams by the sound of Mom’s coffee grinder, a horribly loud appliance accompanied by the intoxicating smell of freshly ground coffee. Mom always said Sara was too young to drink coffee, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying the smell. She woke up to it nearly every day, and always associated it with Mom, and with their morning ritual. Sara got out of bed carefully, so as not to wake the still-sleeping Kevin, and wandered into the kitchen. Mom was standing at the counter, measuring the dark grounds into her coffee maker. She still had a towel wrapped around her head like a turban, and she wasn’t wearing her shoes yet. She looked up when Sara entered and smiled.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said.
“Morning.” Sara pulled a chair out from the table and sat down in it, turning so she could watch Mom finish preparing her breakfast.
“How did you sleep?”
“All right, I guess. I think I had a weird dream, but I don’t remember it.”
“That’s frustrating. Maybe next time you should write it down as soon as you wake up, so you can remember it.” Mom put plate of toast in front of Sara. “I hear that’s what good authors do. They keep a notebook by their beds in case they think of something while they’re asleep. Maybe we should get you a journal, or a notebook or something. Just something fun to write your thoughts in.”
“Actually,” Sara said, smearing butter on her toast. “The doctor gave me a diary the other day. I’ve been writing in it a little bit, but don’t tell Kevin. He doesn’t want me to do it.”
Mom paused, hand on the fridge, and looked at her daughter. “Oh? What did the doctor tell you to write about?”
“Things that make me happy, and things that make me unhappy. Its easier to write about the unhappy things, though.”
Mom laughed. “That’s because they upset us, and we remember them more. Its easier to remember the times when we’re lonely or upset, than the times when we’re happy.”
Sara took a bite of her toast. “Isn’t that kind of sad?” she said after swallowing.
“Isn’t what sad?”
“That its easier to remember the bad things. I think it would be better if people remembered the good things, because then maybe everyone would be happy. They could just forget about the bad times.”
Mom tousled Sara’s hair as she returned to the coffee pot. “Wise words, sweetie. You’d better be careful, talking like that. You’ll be an old soul before you know it.”
“I know. Kevin doesn’t want me to grow up, I think.” Sara poured herself a glass of orange juice from the carton on the table. “What do you do when you make a promise to someone, but then later you think you might not want to keep it anymore? Its still a promise, isn’t it?”
Mom sat down across from Sara and sipped at her coffee, grimacing as she burnt her tongue. “Sara, a lot of grownups have that same problem, and I don’t think there’s an easy answer. I guess you have to decide first what makes you happy. I don’t talk about your father much, but when we were together, we promised to love each other forever. But, forever is a long time, even for grownups. And eventually we realized that we weren’t in love anymore, and that it was better for both of us if we broke that promise.” She shook her head, the towel coming loose and some of her damp hair escaping. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that answered your question.”
Sara stared into her orange juice and thought carefully. “I think maybe I get it. You’re saying that its okay to break a promise sometimes. But only if you both agree.”
Mom drank another sip of coffee, slower this time to avoid burning herself. “No, that’s not it either. Sometimes, one person doesn’t realize how much they’re hurting the other. Then, its up to the one being hurt to do the best thing and tell the other one the truth about how they feel. Sometimes, you can solve your problems. Sometimes you can’t and you end up breaking promises anyway.”
“Oh.” The toast was dry in her mouth, and tasteless. Sara wasn’t sure anymore whether they were talking about her and Kevin, or if Mom was remembering Sara’s father. Either way, she began to feel uncomfortable. “Thanks, Mom. I think I’m going to go get dressed.”
“Okay, but then come back and finish your juice.”
Sara returned to her room to find Kevin stirring from his slumber. “Wake up sleepyhead,” she imitated cheerfully, tugging at Kevin’s bathrobe. “Or you’ll make me late for school.”
Kevin swatted at her hand. “I don’t have to get dressed, though. You’re the only one who would notice,” he retorted grumpily. “You’re the one who will make us late.”
Sara briefly considered bringing the red journal with her to school, but now that Kevin was awake, she couldn’t put it in her backpack without him noticing. There would be an opportunity later, before she fell asleep. She still felt a little bit guilty, lying to Kevin about doing the doctor’s homework, but it actually seemed like it might be helpful. It was just making lists, after all. Besides, Mom had said that it was okay to break promises. Sometimes.
