Resurrection Monday

after fifteen years of empty decisions, the mirror shows a blonde again and i don’t recognize her but i call my dad anyway. he picks up with that tired hum and when i tell him, he goes quiet, says something soft about his little girl, like she came home from the war with hair like sunlight and a voice like gravel. i said, “i wish.” but i didnt say what for. i think about stupid things, like who undresses the tangerines in the bowl, who peels them down to the pith, quiet little offerings no one notices. summer is on its way though and im out here trying to block the sun with half a bottle of SPF 50 and a prayer, same way i keep his words out of my brain. doesn’t always work. the rays and the memories still burn. i talked to Mike the other day. he swore the squirrels are making off with his mom’s old costume jewellery, like they’ve got a heist plan and no respect for the dead. i laughed innocently for the first time in weeks. it was something something to mark the thaw, to remind me that not everything requires a rude awakening.