By Michelle Webster-Hein

February 4, 2014


I was struck today by a couple of things--the perfume of hyacinths, a woman with white hair that hung down to the backs of her knees--but I have finally settled on dust.

I had planned to dust today--had written it down on my list of things to do--but the baby was sick and in need of holding, and I wrote through her naptimes instead of fetching the cloth from under the sink and wiping it over the furniture. And so this dust is beautiful, if only because it reminds me I was busy with far more important things: nuzzling my daughter’s neck and rubbing her chest with ointment and writing a page of sentences I may or may not keep.

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