Tugging at that thin filament at the edges of my brain, leading me through the maze of old paths and connections, reintroducing me to myself and my life, like a baby glancing himself in a mirror, they ring.
My ears focus. My eyes touch darkness. I clear my rusted throat. “The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.”
She screams and drops a purple plate. “Dad’s back!” She rushes over the fragments of our shattered, scattered lives.
Blue tears leak from her eyes. Her sadness is scented with joy.
I close my eyes.
A moment of respite for my lovely wife.
Our lives but glance off the other’s now.
This was written for this week’s hundred-word Write on Edge prompt: “The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.”
I’ve been working with Francine Prose’s Reading Like a Writer, in which the author recommends we study a work one word, then one sentence, then one paragraph, et cetera, at a time, slowly building our understanding of an author’s writing. This morning, I spent way too much time diagramming this paragraph, the first paragraph in Wallace Stegner’s Crossing to Safety: “Floating upward through a confusion of dreams and memory, curving like a trout through the rings of previous rings, I surface. My eyes open. I am awake.”
I love how Stegner goes quickly from dreamlike to matter-of-fact. I tried to copy that quality with this prompt.by