Secrets in my parents' garage: An exchange
Grief: Part 2 of 5
I am indebted to my friend Brian Funke—one of my favorite poets on Substack (check out his Poetry & Process; it’s beautiful). Because this whole exercise was his idea. He invited me to create this collaboration on grief: What if we pair up 100-word micro essays from you with my poems and create a short series on grief, he suggested.
I loved the idea! And here we are.
He shared a lovely poem yesterday, and here’s the first of my three micro-essays responding to his poem. After my three micro-essay posts, Brian will offer another new poem to end the series.
SO, this will run in a quick series of daily micro posts this week. Two of Brian’s beautiful poems will bookend three micro essays by me.
I hope you will read all five posts—no more than a couple of minutes each—and tell us what you think.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Secrets in my parents’ garage
(100 words)
I’m outside what used to be my parents’ home. A flat in a three storey building among a row of similar ones. It’s been over two years since they both passed. Still I contract.
The flat is on rent. But I’m here to clean up their garage. This garage has two large, rickety metal doors conjoined with an oversized metal lock. Someone brings a key.
The doors are parted open. I’m looking into a dark cavern, the walls of which are black, steel trunks hiding remnants. On the cavern floor stepping stones rise to tunnel me back to my childhood.
-reena
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I love the transition in this piece from the garage to the cavern, something about the idea of stepping stones. As one who is actively working to welcome all emotion instead of stunting it, the idea of stepping stones is very permissive...thank you for collaborating with me!
I just finished reading a stack of letters written by my father to my mother during the first two years they were married, before my brother and I were born and discovered several things that I was never aware of, like opening a trunkful of memories or secrets I never knew.