July 27, 2016

HINGE

The three were talking and talking -

the kind of talking after the fourth glass

of wine or beer - late into the evening -

commenting about politics, religion,

the craziness of so and so - but,

“You gotta ….” And she, the fourth of

the group at the dining room table -

thinking, "The dinner food is still sitting 

there. It should be fridged." But she better

not get up and start moving the plates. 

She better stay with the three - but

they didn’t really see her - so she was

looking at the bright bronze of the hinge

holding the dining room door to the dining 

room frame. And she said to herself in 

her inner conversation, “That’s me. Yes, 

that’s me. I’m a hinge between my kids 

and Jack and I’m a hinge between Jill

and her family and mom and my sisters 

and I’m a hidden hinge holding these doors 
that open and close between us."

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2016