Shadows

Hillary outlined a plan. Mentioned standing up to China, not holding hands with the Saudis. Mourned magnets we manufactured in Muncie for guided missile systems, out-sourced along with the factory to another country. Her blazer was smart. Gold. My new haircut slopes to the right. Trendy. I peer through the small hoops of my Walgreens glasses. The left side of my body hurts. And my heels. On the way home from the hairdresser, yellow sprigs of forsythia bouqueted the sides of chipped houses. Magnolia trees dropped wax-like leaves here and there and deep red branches of roadside bushes opened up with pink or white blossom. Winter so tight with gray, made me forget. Indiana can be beautiful. The potholes hurt my self-esteem. Maybe forever. Now, the sun streams in from the kitchen window. Over my kitchen sink. Over my left shoulder. Winks back at me from my computer screen along with my wavering shadow. Strange things shadows, like mute mountains. Witnesses without tongues. I almost believe they are spirit, like I did at eleven. My daughter is eighteen. Same age as my husband, when I met him. How odd. I may never get to Europe. Hillary may beat me to it. One way or another.