The weight on Mary’s shoulders felt lighter with every passing day. Slowly but steadily, she had kept scribbling ACCOMPLISHED beside the items on her list of things to do before the year ran out. She had gone on to register with her home union which usually held meetings on first Sunday of every month. This month’s meeting, being the last one for the year, had been more of a party. She had gotten to eat some native delicacies which she had not tasted since leaving home years ago. She had even joined other members to dance to the folk music played by the cultural troupe. That moment, she had made up her mind that irrespective of where her wedding would be held, she would pay any price to have this music troupe come perform. She was sure she would out-dance Deaconess Caro (Mother of the Day) and Jacqueline (Chief Bridesmaid) and her husband (Mr. Okafor). But what she had liked the most about this month’s meeting was that a team of medical experts had been invited to talk about a number of killer diseases and the ways to prevent them. In the end of the seminar, the medical team had offered free HIV/AIDS and Hepatitis tests for members. Mary had had her blood sample taken even though she was sure that the result would come out negative. She hoped to remember to go over to their office for the result later in the day after going to see Jacqueline, who had taken ill again for the fourth time in three months.
The Western Wind by Samantha Harvey
December reads are special. I usually remember one hallmark book that I read each holiday season. With the headlong year’s end, there’s an increased emotional and spiritual heightening that shouldn’t be wasted. We read in a context of family and friends, both existing and absent. It’s a season of ghosts and ghosting, mists and chills.
The Conversation; Expeditions; For Those of You; Glass Canyons at Night; Private Landscapes, Iced Desires
THE CONVERSATION
they talked through lunch and the better part of the afternoon and again
late that night but what he focused on as she spoke was not the subject lines
say the boat or her mother’s second marriage but rather his wife’s innuendos
Special
The scents of September: ripe blackberries, garden fires, whiteboard marker pens. The start of the school year used to be thrilling, back when Fiona McNeel was a special girl full of promise sitting up front asking clever questions. Now she’d be the one fielding the clever questions, and looking silly if she couldn’t answer them. But how clever could they be, her new students? No more than fifteen in each section (they boasted about class size in the Barrow School brochures) twelve and thirteen year olds, eager to learn and easy to mold. And the classroom was not a bad place to work, a large, airy room with big windows overlooking maple trees and playing fields.
A Deep Plum Nightie
I was flipping through a tall stack of Mama’s magazines one afternoon when I was twelve years old. She was flying back to Iowa from Los Angeles and I was waiting for her in my room. Sitting with my legs crossed in bed, I spread a Victoria’s Secret catalogue in front of me—the Christmas edition. Women pranced around the glossy pages donning Santa hats, carefully placed atop long hair that curled down their backs like smoke. They wore matching lingerie, red velvet stitching and translucent mesh covering thin torsos in minuscule. White furry cuffs dangled loosely at one model’s slender wrists and I wondered who she was, this girl-woman, what kind of house she lived in, what her bedroom must have looked like, and who she would be surprising with her brand new see-through Santa robe.
Deadlines Extended; The Conclusion is Growing: All Systems Day; Stacked Rectangles
Deadlines Extended
Take surveys, determine eligibility,
The orders come and are tiring,
The means-tested world is mean
