She sits quietly outside the kitchen, upright and watchful. I see my childhood self in her eyes. I was quiet, obedient, guarded once. Everyone larger, more powerful and all knowing. I observed and learned how to clown sadness and fear. I smile wide, giggle and joke when I ache within. Mother said, "I never know how you feel." I was satisfied. It worked. Biggest wide smile ever.
She sits quietly, chirps and clicks at the birds flying by and then jumps onto the chair near where I sit, staying close, keeping our secret safe as she curls up to sleep.
Gosh Tamar, you have a mesmerizing pace to your "voice." I can actually feel what I percieve as a cat (?) hoping up into my lap. And it is so warming! It reminded me of an image I gleaned from one of Doestevsky's novels. I could taste it and smell it. Thanks. You continue to take me on a journey.
best,
dan
Posted by: dan ramirez | February 19, 2005 at 09:55 AM
Dan,
Thank you for this feedback.
Was trying something new and wasn't sure how it "felt."
By the way - you are taking me on a journey too.
Posted by: Tamar | February 19, 2005 at 10:38 AM
Very nice, Tamar. Nice turn in the middle, using that white space to build emotion.
Posted by: Matt | February 19, 2005 at 11:03 AM
Very good! I interpreted the "she" as a daughter, not a cat, by the way. In any event, you get an admirable amount of material into this short space: a two-generation chronicle in two paragraphs! And you very effectively evoke the feeling of shared unspoken empathy, a mother-daughter bond that is strengthened by their understanding of the negative emotions that have in common.
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | February 19, 2005 at 11:35 AM
I think I'll keep you wondering about the cat/daughter/mother/inner child ...
Am excited by this.
As Dan said, "Lots of fused out noise and then focus."
Thank you all for the support!
Posted by: Tamar | February 19, 2005 at 12:10 PM