this morning #58.

this morning, before sunrise she was already propped up in her corner easy chair, staring ahead at the game show network glow. her faded flowered nightgown hung limp over her body, exposing all manners of spots & veins & wear & tear. for years, there had been a specificity to the way that she interacted with the world around her. church hats. clean jokes. stern backhand. surrounded by believers. surrounding her now was a vacant silence punctuated by dry coughs and game show bells & whistles. later today, her daughter would visit. til then, she’d breathe out & breathe in.