BY KAILEY TEDESCO
[Note: All quotations taken from Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962)]
Crossing the street (lose one turn) came next, to get to the grocery directly opposite. I always hesitated, vulnerable and exposed, on the side of the road where the traffic went by.
I. Neighbors get uncomfortably close in their usually harmless attempts to pet our dog. I have to quickly think of a way to tell them to take a few steps back without sounding rude. I make a rule for myself: I will not allow others to stand less than six feet away from us. I worry about them. I worry about myself. There is death all over the news. I could take a step back myself, but then I’d be in the street where the cars are speeding past us.
“Merricat,” she said, smiling at me, “look how far I came today.”
“It’s too far,” I said. First thing I know you’ll be following me into the village.”
“I might, at that,” she said.
Even though I knew she was teasing me I was chilled…
II. We run out of cat food. We try having it delivered, but every delivery service replies that it is out of stock. My husband says he needs to go search for it himself. I knew he was right. He leaves for the grocery store — a normal, everyday errand. I hug him extra long. As I watch his car pull away, I am chilled.
I decided that I would choose three powerful words, words of strong protection.
III. I decide to burn my New Year’s resolutions. I keep them in a tiny envelope charged with luck and magic. It’s not fair for anyone to hold themselves to resolutions right now, I think. I burn them in an abalone shell with coconut incense. I whisper words into the charred belly containing my hopes for a year that isn’t like any year I’ve ever known. I choose words like LACHRYMOSE & GLASGOW & COLLODION.
If no one speaks these words aloud, maybe everything will change. We need sympathetic magic. We need to take action. We need to check our omens. We need to use our privilege to help wherever we can. We all need everything to change.
When we had finished and Constance had scrubbed the kitchen floor our house looked clean and new; from the front door to the kitchen door everything was clear and swept. So many things were gone from the kitchen that it looked bare, but Constance put our cups and plates and bowls on a shelf, and found a pan to give Jonas milk, and we were quite safe.
IV. We are the lucky ones. We’re in our house that is also a castle, windows open so turret-winds can stream through the kitchen, still stained with sun. Outside, there is anger, and there is fear. Outside, there is danger. Outside, the grocery shelves are empty & buildings are abandoned & people are hurting. So much hurting. The world is on fire & we, in this house, are lucky. We’ll do without paper towels and bread this week, but we are still so lucky. I’ll keep reminding myself of this.
Sometimes they brought bacon, home-cured, or fruit, or their own preserves, which were never as good as the preserves Constance made. Mostly they brought roasted chicken; sometimes a cake or pie, frequently cookies, sometimes a potato salad or a coleslaw…
These things were always left on the front doorstep, always silently and in the evenings.
V. Days go by and we accept that our routines must change. There are others to support. Our family. Our friends. Our communities. We order from our favorite restaurants & they deliver food to our doorsteps and leave quickly without any contact at all. We wait until they are gone and run outside to bring burritos or pasta or salads into our home. We are grateful for this continued offering, that we still have this option to taste our favorite meals. We remember to send a note through Door Dash and tip very well. We remember to be kinder. To everyone.
Kailey Tedesco is the author of These Ghosts of Mine, Siamese (Dancing Girl Press) and the full-length collection, She Used to be on a Milk Carton (April Gloaming Publications). She is the co-founding editor-in-chief of Rag Queen Periodical and a member of the Poetry Brothel. She received her MFA in creative writing from Arcadia University, and she now teaches literature at several local colleges. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. You can find her work in Prelude, Bellevue Literary Review, Sugar House Review, Poetry Quarterly, Hello Giggles, UltraCulture, and more. For more information, please visit kaileytedesco.com.