The two of us were doing a jigsaw puzzle, our most challenging one to date. So many pieces appeared alike. The milky way is hard to untangle in cut-out shapes. Nothing glowed to guide us.
You said the solstice was a time of divine rebirthing in ancient Egypt. I was just happy you knew today was the longest day of the year. You said, in the Dendra Temple in ancient Egypt, the sound of drums would fill the walls during the solstice celebration. You placed one of the pieces just right.
I couldn’t understand how anything fit. Puzzles were not my thing. I am not sure if I did them for you or me. Maybe that’s where ‘us’ comes from.
We moved the pieces between our fingers as if they were antique gems. The pyramids weren’t built in a day, I said as I called it a day. I moved the cardboard box on which the puzzle lay and placed it on our oak cabinet you had once made when your hands were more stable.
We left the puzzle there until the winter solstice. You didn’t ask for it this time, but I brought it out anyway, knowing to leave a few pieces on the cabinet, so we could never finish. This way, next summer solstice, we would again sit across from each other, and you would tell me stories about the constellation which looks like a bird, and the one that looks like a lyre, remembering all the facts from all your years of research, but not remembering a single one about us.
Annie Q. Syed is a reader, writer, and teacher. You can find more of her work at www.anniesyed.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment