In New Light
Saturday, October 01, 2005
“Doesn’t the grass look strange?” Ma asked from her wheelchair. She always did that. She would ask me about the strange grass and then keep quiet. Today was no different. But I kept looking. There I was, looking at the grass in the garden. The garden was full of it so no matter where I looked, I had grass in my eyes.
“Which grass, Ma?” I asked, as it was the norm. She would stare but she wouldn’t talk. Her eyes were weird. They looked like frogeyes, huge and bulging. And occasionally she would croak with grief. Not today. I continued looking at the garden, scanning for any grass that wasn’t acting like one. Nope, they were all green and swaying in the wind.
I looked at Ma and her eyes were still on the garden. She liked coming here, Ma did. It helped her stay sane, she said. She lived alone with me so I think she was telling me something. Ma was the smart cookie in our family. Pa was committed soon after knocking my mother up in this very garden. It’s funny in a way because Pa had told her that there was some strange grass in the garden that he wanted her to see. I never got to see Pa other than the day when he was on TV, taking an injection. I was later told that he had seen strange grass with seven other women in the garden.
Anyways, it was night and I had been looking at nothing for three hours. I wanted to go but Ma hadn’t said much other than look at strange grass. Bloody woman, she was the strange one and not the grass! She wouldn’t talk to me still and that was also strange. She liked putting me down at night. I missed that because it made me feel all hot inside. I shook her. To my surprise, she fell from the chair. It was then that I knew she was dead.
I still had to call the doctor and the police. I called the doctor and told him Ma was dead. He asked me how she died. I told him that the grass did her in. He hung up.
I called the Police next and told them the same thing. The operator said she would send me a gardener. She hung up before I could give her the address.
I was stuck with Ma and her now blue skin. Her eyes were still staring and her tongue fell from the crack of her lips. She looked more froglike than ever. I decided that Ma had to go. I found a little corner in the garden and I started digging there. The grass was long and sharp and it cut me at places. The blood kept me hot and soon I had a hole big enough to fit me. I know this because I slept in the hole to see if it was comfortable. It wasn’t so I layered it with grass. It should be better now and I rolled Ma into her bed. She had mud on her face but her eyes were as white as the milk. I layered her again with grass and then filled her up. I looked at the mound and I felt nothing. I was pushing the wheelchair home when the wind was full of whispers. I heard Ma’s voice again.
‘Doesn’t the grass look strange?”
I turned around and stared at the grass by the streaming moonlight. Yes Ma, it looked strange.
It looked beautiful; beautiful enough to ask people to see it.
“Which grass, Ma?” I asked, as it was the norm. She would stare but she wouldn’t talk. Her eyes were weird. They looked like frogeyes, huge and bulging. And occasionally she would croak with grief. Not today. I continued looking at the garden, scanning for any grass that wasn’t acting like one. Nope, they were all green and swaying in the wind.
I looked at Ma and her eyes were still on the garden. She liked coming here, Ma did. It helped her stay sane, she said. She lived alone with me so I think she was telling me something. Ma was the smart cookie in our family. Pa was committed soon after knocking my mother up in this very garden. It’s funny in a way because Pa had told her that there was some strange grass in the garden that he wanted her to see. I never got to see Pa other than the day when he was on TV, taking an injection. I was later told that he had seen strange grass with seven other women in the garden.
Anyways, it was night and I had been looking at nothing for three hours. I wanted to go but Ma hadn’t said much other than look at strange grass. Bloody woman, she was the strange one and not the grass! She wouldn’t talk to me still and that was also strange. She liked putting me down at night. I missed that because it made me feel all hot inside. I shook her. To my surprise, she fell from the chair. It was then that I knew she was dead.
I still had to call the doctor and the police. I called the doctor and told him Ma was dead. He asked me how she died. I told him that the grass did her in. He hung up.
I called the Police next and told them the same thing. The operator said she would send me a gardener. She hung up before I could give her the address.
I was stuck with Ma and her now blue skin. Her eyes were still staring and her tongue fell from the crack of her lips. She looked more froglike than ever. I decided that Ma had to go. I found a little corner in the garden and I started digging there. The grass was long and sharp and it cut me at places. The blood kept me hot and soon I had a hole big enough to fit me. I know this because I slept in the hole to see if it was comfortable. It wasn’t so I layered it with grass. It should be better now and I rolled Ma into her bed. She had mud on her face but her eyes were as white as the milk. I layered her again with grass and then filled her up. I looked at the mound and I felt nothing. I was pushing the wheelchair home when the wind was full of whispers. I heard Ma’s voice again.
‘Doesn’t the grass look strange?”
I turned around and stared at the grass by the streaming moonlight. Yes Ma, it looked strange.
It looked beautiful; beautiful enough to ask people to see it.
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