Born Under a Bad Sign
I was born into this world on the darkest night. One lost soul passed and another lost soul was born to wander the path in her place. Sometimes, I think back to that night and what she must have looked like, how her breast must have felt, rising and falling with its last breaths. What was it like, to finally exhale, finally pass, nice and peaceful, on to somewhere and have a place to belong? Once, I asked our matron after I’d taken my rations from her, and Mrs. Brewer put a shriveled hand over her heart and looked at the ceiling with a sigh. She said my mother has wings now, and she sings all day and night. And I didn’t say it out loud, but the more I thought about my mother, the more I began to hope that someday, the same might happen to me.
But then I look around and I wonder whether heaven isn’t just a story that Mrs. Brewer made up to get us all to stop …show more content…
I could barely make out a low rumbling sound coming from another room -- Mrs. Brewer’s snoring. Once we’d heard that, everyone’s shoulders went slack with a chorus of sighs. And Maryann puffed up her chest and sat up on her knees, so she could look down upon her audience once again.
But as she began to tell the story of Cinderella, I couldn’t help but ask my question again, just to myself. Why only once upon a time? Why not twice? Who could count the number of times a girl had been rescued from her plight by a prince? Who could pity Cinderella alone as the only one who had been treated so poorly? Who had decided that these angelic girls only appeared once upon a time?
These questions whirled through my mind like lukewarm summer winds, dying to come out. I rose to my knees and opened my mouth to speak.
But at a glare from Maryann, I closed it again. I hadn’t realized until I looked up and met her eyes how much larger she was than me, thicker and bent with lifting, and stooping, sweeping and scrubbing. A shiver ran through me, and I sat back
I was born into this world on the darkest night. One lost soul passed and another lost soul was born to wander the path in her place. Sometimes, I think back to that night and what she must have looked like, how her breast must have felt, rising and falling with its last breaths. What was it like, to finally exhale, finally pass, nice and peaceful, on to somewhere and have a place to belong? Once, I asked our matron after I’d taken my rations from her, and Mrs. Brewer put a shriveled hand over her heart and looked at the ceiling with a sigh. She said my mother has wings now, and she sings all day and night. And I didn’t say it out loud, but the more I thought about my mother, the more I began to hope that someday, the same might happen to me.
But then I look around and I wonder whether heaven isn’t just a story that Mrs. Brewer made up to get us all to stop …show more content…
I could barely make out a low rumbling sound coming from another room -- Mrs. Brewer’s snoring. Once we’d heard that, everyone’s shoulders went slack with a chorus of sighs. And Maryann puffed up her chest and sat up on her knees, so she could look down upon her audience once again.
But as she began to tell the story of Cinderella, I couldn’t help but ask my question again, just to myself. Why only once upon a time? Why not twice? Who could count the number of times a girl had been rescued from her plight by a prince? Who could pity Cinderella alone as the only one who had been treated so poorly? Who had decided that these angelic girls only appeared once upon a time?
These questions whirled through my mind like lukewarm summer winds, dying to come out. I rose to my knees and opened my mouth to speak.
But at a glare from Maryann, I closed it again. I hadn’t realized until I looked up and met her eyes how much larger she was than me, thicker and bent with lifting, and stooping, sweeping and scrubbing. A shiver ran through me, and I sat back