Bio Note: I got interested in poetry accidentally when Donna Hilbert started her first poetry workshop. Once I joined, I was hooked. I live with my extended family where I don't suffer from the empty nest syndrome. My books are available at Amazon. My novel, Hearts on Bergenline Avenue is my most recent one.
My kitchen is dark so I slide the curtain on the rod to look outside. The sky is tan; the street tinted brown like some of the movies of the fifties about atomic blasts and mushroom clouds. First, Covid and now everywhere ashes lie on our cars, driveways, and windowsills from fires in the Angeles National Forest. I turn on TV and see fires burning along the whole west coast: California, Oregon, Washington. Is this a vision of end times? Fire fighters struggle with no end in sight. People are losing their homes; some are losing their lives. I can’t complain. I feel safe inside where I’ve been holed up since March. Yet there is plague, floods, fires everywhere.
The first Saturday at home alone I listen to the hum of the dishwasher, sirens wail down the boulevard near by. The kids next door bounce the basketball in the street. Our house usually bustles with grown kids living back at home. They’ll soon be moving on. Not now, not yet Stay a little longer. Today the quiet enfolds me. It feels nun-like. I never had a solitary life. I woke up thinking it was a normal day. My eyes follow the slant of the sun shining on his empty recliner.
I waited my turn at the Serendipity Salon in Teaneck, New Jersey, for Michel, the French Canadian to style my hair. He charmed me, chatting feverishly in his lovely French accent, as he performed magic with his scissors. I emerged feeling just like Jackie Kennedy. He went south to seek his fortune and there were always Michel stories buzzing around the crowded salon. He drove a Mercedes, lived in an oceanfront condo in Boca Raton, and he was supposedly kept by a wealthy Palm Beach man. Until one day, a patron announced Michel had died from AIDS. the stylists held their dryers and combs in mid-air, a woman interrupted her sip of coffee, someone turned down the volume on the radio, and there was a moment of silence at the Serendipity Salon in Teaneck.
©2020 Barbara Eknoian
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