{"id":1247,"date":"2019-07-05T18:57:46","date_gmt":"2019-07-05T18:57:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peterschireson.com\/?p=1247"},"modified":"2023-03-21T13:30:39","modified_gmt":"2023-03-21T17:30:39","slug":"vermeer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peterschireson.com\/vermeer\/","title":{"rendered":"Vermeer"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
When she was getting close <\/p>\n\n\n\n
to the end, we cached the hospice morphine <\/p>\n\n\n\n
in the fridge behind the ricotta cheese,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
in case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We moved her bed into the living room, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
where she could look out onto the Hollywood hills. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She slept and slept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Waking, she said she\u2019d dreamed<\/p>\n\n\n\n
she was a delirious little bird,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and everything around her\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a fragrant field, a grey branch, a dusty road\u2014understood her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Later, she said she\u2019d dreamt <\/p>\n\n\n\n
of rope and wire, of Lv\u00f3v in the War, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
of nameless relations hiding <\/p>\n\n\n\n
with other Jews in the sewer, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
shards of skin and glass <\/p>\n\n\n\n
and skeins of hair washing away <\/p>\n\n\n\n
in gutter water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She said she knew she, too, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
was washing away. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She laughed a little light laugh,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and I heard a chime at the edge of her laughter <\/p>\n\n\n\n
that puzzled me, until I understood it <\/p>\n\n\n\n
to be her feeling of having only laughter left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I found a few letters in her closet from her father, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
written in his Yiddish accent\u2014 \u201cvel\u201d scrawled for \u201cwell,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
history in its plainest, most intimate sense. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the old country he\u2019d been well-off, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
which ended with the revolution\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
something struck off, something stuck on,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the old secret tales, and blood in the mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Like all children, one accepts <\/p>\n\n\n\n
that animals that die do not come back to life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
After he came over, he found work as a bookkeeper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In their day, people here got used to seeing them,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
grandmother in her shawl. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There were many immigrants on the boulevard,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
like now, easy to spot, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
their hazy look, like charcoal sketches, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
and their unfortunate choices of colors. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Poco moto the light scatters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside, Los Angeles shimmers like a piano. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the ceiling over her bed, the windowpanes<\/p>\n\n\n\n
shape the lunar light into an arrangement of rectangles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask her if she is afraid, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She says she sat once in front of the painting <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Young Woman with a Water Pitcher<\/p>\n\n\n\n
for an hour. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then it no longer troubled her,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
her inconsequential life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When she was getting close\u00a0<\/p>\n
to the end, we cached the hospice morphine\u00a0<\/p>\n
in the fridge behind the ricotta cheese,<\/p>\n
in case.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1197,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,23],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n