memory

when i was six years old
we had plans to go to the ice capades
with the neighbor up the street and her three daughters.

for weeks i skated through the house in my socks,
sliding across the kitchen floor,
arms arced, face upturned toward imaginary glory.

shortly before the event, our friend's grandmother
fell ill, and was hospitalized.
instead of, "only nine more days until the ice capades"
the familiar refrain was, "we'll see, dana. we'll see."

i kept anxious watch on her progress,
pestering my mother daily for "the good news".
it didn't come.

in typical taurean fashion,
i snorted and stomped and raged
"i wish she would hurry up and die, then."

as soon as i let the words loose, i felt my heart
start to crumble.
i even shocked myself with my selfishness.

i am still ashamed.