She was surrounded by love. Her husband, children and spouses, and grandchildren were there. So many had loved her over her 60-short years. But now, with all of the names swallowed up by the cold realization, the absolute certainty, that she would never again voice those names, she couldn’t speak to share her own reciprocal love.
Calling those beloved names had been an anthem of belonging and connection: her family. HERS.
Her vocal cords were useless: frozen by years of mission-critical asthma inhalers. Four puffs, four different medicines, four times a day kept her lungs working, kept her alive, even, but stole her voice, another indignity added to this once-lively invalid.
But her eyes spoke volumes, smiles and tears joining forces to engrave her love onto our hearts. She died just a few weeks later, with all the names engraved upon her own heart.
This was written for my mother, Nancy Joan Harvell, in response to a dVerse Poets Pub prompt called Prosery – Tomas Tranströmer. Shared by Bjorn, the prompt encourages participants to write a prose piece of only 144 words using this line from a poem by Tranströmer, who was a Nobel Laureate for poetry: “all of the names swallowed up by the cold“. I thought of my Mom and her frozen vocal cords, which prevented her from speaking our names.
The prose piece is based on the day described in the post below.
The cover photo (repeated below) is Mom and me in her kitchen at the beach, years and years ago, when she was healthy, lively and could still “run and jump and play” – and talk. I learned so much from her in that kitchen: about love, and life, and cooking. Good times.
Thank you to Bjorn and the crew at dVerse for the ever-stimulating prompts. I encourage all readers to head on over to dVerse using the link above and check out the other poets’ prose.
© 2024, Glover Gardens
Lovely! The line “Her vocal cords were useless: frozen…” depicts the physical toll of illness, while “But her eyes spoke volumes, smiles…” illustrates the enduring power of love and connection! I love how you wove your prosery!
~David
Such a poignant tribute to your mother who seemed to have left you way too early… without a voice it sounds that she could still stay farwell to her close ones.
This makes me think of my grandpa who lost his ability to speak after a stroke but could speak volumes with expressions and the light in his eyes. That’s a great picture of you in the kitchen. So much life and laughter in those four corners.
Voice takes many forms and she and her loved ones heard each other. Kim a beautiful writing in honor of your mother. I love that picture. Reminds me of my grandma’s kitchen <3
Thank you! And yes, there are many ways to convey feelings, aren’t there?
I’m imagining that you had good times in your Grandma’s kitchen, and have some wonderful memories.