Wednesday, July 27, 2016

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

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Love this imagery. Never thought of life that way, but so true.

Anonymous said...

Rusty broken hinge.
Missing three screws barely hanging on
Not strong enough.