Baldwin Sisters

Knowledge is a hole in my chest that in two weeks Alexcia will come and retrieve me. She will bring me to a house that used to be our home. In the morning we will make wonderful coffee like we have a thousand times before, and then we'll get back in her jeep and drive to the same court where my birth was recorded, now to untie a knot that we tied in Tombstone, AZ eight years ago. The end will be the beginning. We'll drive over Baldwin Hill, and her sister hills in route to the court. We will be careful with the compact discs we'll play in route. Music has more power than most of us admit. One sad song, or a favorite we danced to while trying not to burn the pancakes and we will be weeping puddles on the foor of the car with noone left to drive.

There is more gear in front of me than there has ever been. My thoughts are fluttered. My fingers are fat strangers that hear me but don't respond. My feet are already wet with worry. I am not afraid. Afraid is hearing a rumble come up from the thin ice your standing on. I am petrified. Many people are inside me now. One man is eating soup, but he is shaking so horribly that the soup wont stay on the spoon. Some people are crying, desperately gathering memories together in white canvas bags. They will follow strangers that say they are angels into the hills. They will try not to look back. I am afraid that they will. There is a much younger me, and he is trying to hold our grandmother one last time before he leaves for the army. There is the coolness of her cheek. There is the smell of Whiteshoulders in her hair, moving in his head just like the tie of her apron behind her neck marching softly to her heart. He is crying , but he smiles hard thinking that'll make the red on his flash fire face make sense. He still believes men don't cry. Alot of silly beliefs still camp in him.