From The Topsail Triad: Gillian is listening to seagulls outside her window on a late winter day when she is certain to be abused. Days like today, when the winter sun does not shine, when the cold March rain seeks out your soul, are the hardest days. Somehow, despite the weight of the sky and clouds and precipitation of lingering winter, the seagulls manage to fill the coastal air with calls that can push back the darkness that pursues me, if I can just stop for a minute and close my eyes and listen with all of me. If I can be still enough, I can imagine them winging over sun-flecked foam on warm summer waves where surfers play. I can picture them above the wave line, with plovers and oyster catchers darting in and out amongst them. If I dare close my eyes so that I can be alone with my thoughts, and if I can keep down that constant fear that he might materialize at any moment, then the those white and brown and sandy birds and their screeches, squawks, and calls can give me a moment of warmth in the sun, a moment when I was a child before all of this happened, before he happened. But I dare not close my eyes, because it is still winter, and there is no sun, just cold rain, and the certainty that his demon will be visited on me because of it.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 22:34:41 +0000