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Thursday, November 25th, 2010
| Time |
Event |
| 2:23a |
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Before I could consider this further, the
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Before I could consider this further, the front
door opened below me"I'm back!" Wireman called
"Mission accomplished! Now who wants a drink?"
How to Draw a Picture (V)
Don't be afraid to experiment; find your muse and
let her lead youAs her talent grew stronger,
Elizabeth's muse became Noveen, the marvelous
talking dollAnd by the time
she discovered her mistake - by the time Noveen's
voice changed - it was too lateBut at first it
must have been wonderfulFinding one's muse
always is
384
The cake, for instance
Make it go on the floor, Noveen saysMake it go
on the floor, Libbit!
And because she can, she doesShe draws Nan
Melda's cake on the floorSplattered on the floor!
Ha! And Nan Melda standing over it, hands on hips,
disgusted
And was Elizabeth ashamed when it actually
happened? Ashamed and a little frightened? I think
she wasFor children, meanness is usually
funny only when it's imagined
Still, there were other games
Until finally, in '27
In Florida, all out-of-season hurricanes are
called AliceBut the one
that came screaming in off the Gulf in March of
that year should have been named Hurricane
Elizabeth
The doll whispered to her in a voice that must
have sounded like the wind in the palms at night
Or the retreating tide grating through the shells
under Big PinkWhispering as little Libbit
lingered on the porch of sleepTelling her how
385
much fun it would be to paint a big storm
Noveen says There are secret thingsBuried
treasures a big storm will uncoverThings Daddy
would like to find and loo | | 2:39a |
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My ass went back onto the seat of my chair
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My ass went back onto the seat of my chair with a
thumpIt wasn't a voluntary act of sitting; it
was more a case of my knees losing their lock and
letting goI looked at the line, then out the
windowFrom the Gulf to the lineFrom the line
to the Gulf
She had tried to draw the horizonIt had been her
first thing
I picked up my pad and seized one of her pencils
It didn't matter which one as long as it was hers
It felt too big, too fat, in my handIt also felt
just right
On Duma Key, it was what I did best
iii
I sketched a child sitting on a potty chairHer
head was bandagedShe had a drinking glass in one
handHer other arm was slung around her father's
neckHe was wearing a strap-style undershirt and
had shaving cream on his cheeksStanding in the
background, just a shadow, was the housekeeperNo
820
bracelets in this sketch, because she didn't
always wear them, but the kerchief was wrapped
around her head, the knot in frontNan Melda, the
closest thing to a mother Libbit ever knew
Libbit?
Yes, that was what they called herWhat she
called herselfLibbit, little Libbit
"The littlest one of all," I murmured, and flicked
back the first page of the sketch-padThe pencil
- too short, too fat, unused for over threequarters
of a century - was the perfect tool, the
perfect chan |
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