Prose: At The Table

Prose: At The Table


At the table, we kept a vase that never had flowers but always asked for some.

One year, I ripped branches from the bushes on the way home from school and filled the vase with green life.

The leaves made you smile. You said, “You sure can find treasure in a dump.”

Since then I’ve been treasure hunting across countries, searching for little forgotten stones to put in my vase.

Today, I haven’t left my home in 47 days so I pull out the tray of stones.

One by one, I wash the memories through my hands.

If I water these rocks, my moments might come back to life and take me with them to tomorrow.

This stone was yellow until I kept it in my bra for 3 weeks and wished for love.

It turned pinked and we moved into the cottage by the sea.

We took walks across bay bridges and climbed on construction sites.

In March, the city flooded and we put our TV on a kitchen cabinet.

We drank margaritas on the counters until the Earth dried up again.