One August night
by Angela Batchelor
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Sisters remember yesterday, plan for tomorrow.
We laughed past midnight,
in a hotel room,
reminisced about spreading our blanket
on Rye Playland beach,
we both hated sand in our toes.
Losing my keys on the Ferris Wheel at Yonkers Raceway,
planning our sisters’ summer in Las Vegas and on Cozumel shores.
We fussed and fought,
argued about a drug to raise your T-cell count,
running in the AIDS Awareness Race in New Orleans,
planning an explanation for family and friends at your funeral.
We passed the autumnal and winter equinox, prayed
about revealing and healing past hurts,
preparing your body for a new one,
telling your nieces auntie was going
home. This August night,
alone in my bedroom, I thought
about watching an “I Love Lucy” rerun, our childhood
show, buying new sandals—you loved sandals in all colors—
sitting on the beach
my toes in the sand.