By Jaimey Grant (Divorce~Ice Cream~Delightful)
What a delightful evening. The sun sinks its leisurely way beneath the horizon while crickets, frogs, and lightning bugs make their presences known in their varied and special ways. Pinks, yellows, and oranges paint the sky—nature's canvas.
I sit on the deck, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. The ice cream slowly melts as I stare straight ahead, watching the sun die its nightly death.
I love this time, a sort of limbo between day and night. It's a transitional period I envy. To become something completely opposite in the space of a few minutes, maybe an hour...what an amazing thing that is!
My hand tingles, numbness spreading through it, reminding me of the frozen treat I've ignored for several minutes now. I lift my spoon, eyes still trained on the disappearing sun.
As I dip my spoon into the bowl, a flash of red catches my eye. Finally tearing my eyes away from the sun, I notice the darkened stain on my thumb.
Damn. I'd washed my hands so carefully. Well, I thought I had. Apparently I was wrong.
I set my bowl on the little table beside my deck chair. I can't take my eyes from my hand. How could I have missed that?
My feet take me to the bathroom, bypassing the kitchen sink. I'm not sure why I make this decision but I know I have to wash at the bathroom sink, the same sink where I'd stood not thirty minutes ago, watching red rivulets wash away.
“This is all your fault,” I mutter. “If you hadn't—but you did.” I sigh. The stain disappears, leaving my skin red from the vigorous scrubbing.
I dry my hands, making sure every drop of moisture is soaked up. As I turn to hang the towel back up, I catch my husband's eye.
He doesn't blink. He never will again. I made sure of that.
I return to my peaceful perch. My ice cream has melted, dissolving any desire I have for the cool treat.
The sun's final moment of life sheds streaks of red across the horizon. Streaks of red, just like blood. Just like blood, running down a drain. Or running down his face, arms, and chest.
I chuckle. Just let him try and divorce me now.
What a delightful evening. The sun sinks its leisurely way beneath the horizon while crickets, frogs, and lightning bugs make their presences known in their varied and special ways. Pinks, yellows, and oranges paint the sky—nature's canvas.
I sit on the deck, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. The ice cream slowly melts as I stare straight ahead, watching the sun die its nightly death.
I love this time, a sort of limbo between day and night. It's a transitional period I envy. To become something completely opposite in the space of a few minutes, maybe an hour...what an amazing thing that is!
My hand tingles, numbness spreading through it, reminding me of the frozen treat I've ignored for several minutes now. I lift my spoon, eyes still trained on the disappearing sun.
As I dip my spoon into the bowl, a flash of red catches my eye. Finally tearing my eyes away from the sun, I notice the darkened stain on my thumb.
Damn. I'd washed my hands so carefully. Well, I thought I had. Apparently I was wrong.
I set my bowl on the little table beside my deck chair. I can't take my eyes from my hand. How could I have missed that?
My feet take me to the bathroom, bypassing the kitchen sink. I'm not sure why I make this decision but I know I have to wash at the bathroom sink, the same sink where I'd stood not thirty minutes ago, watching red rivulets wash away.
“This is all your fault,” I mutter. “If you hadn't—but you did.” I sigh. The stain disappears, leaving my skin red from the vigorous scrubbing.
I dry my hands, making sure every drop of moisture is soaked up. As I turn to hang the towel back up, I catch my husband's eye.
He doesn't blink. He never will again. I made sure of that.
I return to my peaceful perch. My ice cream has melted, dissolving any desire I have for the cool treat.
The sun's final moment of life sheds streaks of red across the horizon. Streaks of red, just like blood. Just like blood, running down a drain. Or running down his face, arms, and chest.
I chuckle. Just let him try and divorce me now.
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