#73 I, Isabel Scheherazade, am like that fish Mom and I studied.

by storytellerisabel

isabelinchair

I’m Like that Fish–Still

After Mom and Dad died, I’ve been like that sunnie, sort of suspended, maybe not getting enough air, or something. I laugh a little, but not much, really.

And–maybe you’ve noticed?–I never cry.

A lot of times, suddenly I’ll be struck still and just freeze up.

Even after all that stuff with Mr. Smith and Arturo–I’m still more suspended than lively and in the swim.

It’s like I need a gizmo like that aerator Mom told me about–the one she put into the frozen lake to save the fish.

ISABEL (Dad had lots of Shakespeare quotes, but right now, this minute? Right now I remember him saying this when we spilled milk, or muddied that new white couch, or wet the bed: “What’s done can’t be undone.” Somehow it was comforting when Dad said it. Not so now when I’m remembering it.)

 

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