0 to 3 Months « Making Descansos

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Anne’s mother and father are in the fullest sense, young – eighteen and twenty does not allow for the experience it will take to cope with the present conditions in their lives. As Anne’s father lays in a body cast, he is still in shock and shocked by his morphine dreams. Questions dance in his head, where will the three of them live, where will he work to keep the three from sinking, and will he walk again to provide for the three of them? The questions surface and resurface, rippling through his mind as he plunges between the stages of induced, dark sleep. For now, he concentrates on how wonderful a bath would feel, to have steaming hot water splash against his skin, to smell of ivory soap and old spice, and to carefully remove the whiskers under his neck. The itching never stops.

Anne’s mother must have bed rest for one week. It is required. She doesn’t want to think of moving in with family. She has only been a bride for a year and some days. She is tired, and tears fill her waking moments. For now her hospital room is warm and safe. She turns toward the window and watches the sky as it turns a fall gray, the days are somewhat shorter and she doesn’t like the shadows of an early evening. For a single moment the sun bleeds through a cloud and she sees the rich colors of russet, burnt orange, and fried butter yellow blow from the trees. And for those few days she is secure watching the leaves make their way to the ground below.