Sitting cross-legged in front of a Lite Bright, piles of green, yellow, pink pegs
around my toes and knees, listening to the whirring of the sewing machine
in the next room. Grandma's patching someone's jeans. The insides of my Levi's
wore away. The carpet puckers where someone's picked over the years,
blue threads twine with green. The sewing machine stops; Grandma's dropped a needle.
She bends over, pants stretching, knees popping. Her right foot steps ever so slightly
to the left, too close to the other foot, on top of the needle, slicing up into the heel.
No comments:
Post a Comment