"Hi', I said, "Nothing has really changed, inside."
I needed soap. She wanted figs. We grabbed a basket and I promised myself, just a few things. Only what I need. Dandelion greens, strawberries, dates, figs, ten huge limes for $1. The soap.
Home again, home again and we had figs. The day went on, dandelion greens at dinner. It's now tomorrow and in my room are five dolls on the floor, all faces I have known my whole life. My dolls.
August is in her dreamland picking at the day. I picked the rose scented Bee & Flower. I use to buy bars by the dozen. By the double dozen. Rose because it remind's me of my Abuelita. I unwrapped it slowly. Smelled it. I licked it, my dolls made me do it. I placed it in the tub.
I couldn't part with the wrapping. It needs to linger. The gold foil stamp, the paper.
...first created in Shanghai in the 1920's. Immediately that phase of mine with Nin and Duras and Dinesen. Then Simone de Beauvoir. I was nineteen. I looked in the mirror and my hair looked so black. I was about to brush my teeth but found that I was still hungry. There are dates in the kitchen.
I left my rose scented bathroom. Not really, I left Abuelita's rose scented bathroom with the window that was always open so that while you showered you heard loud street sounds and people talking next door in the dark. The bathroom was the loneliest place. Tall, concrete walls, a high ceiling, to much room. The sound of water hitting tile was heavy. Abuelita was not there.
The dates in the kitchen? No. Instead, I closed down the house. I noticed that she put the petrified wood exactly where I had it. What a charmer. I sniffed the soap paper as I brushed my teeth.