Mount Hope by Kellie Woolf

Author:Kellie Woolf [Kellie Woolf]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-11T14:00:00+00:00

25

NellFae blinks several times. She is used to chunks of her day missing, but it never stops alarming her. Sometimes she will find herself walking along the railroad tracks carrying a sack that she doesn’t remember filling. She might open a can of fruit cocktail to warm on her clay pot, only to find one already there ready to be eaten. Or she will stand in line for a sack lunch at the Assumption Catholic Church and be greeted with “Back so soon!” As such, she is not surprised to find herself in the Garden of Peace when she remembered sitting in Beth Tikvah. She finds herself shrugging the mystery off with little regard this time, as the place where she landed has left her completely content.

She is noticing birds. Blue jays and crows chatter and fight over treetops, a robin hops in the grass looking for worms, and tiny brown finches peck for grains of salt left over from winter near the path. The sun catches her attention as it begins to tilt west, readying itself for five o’clock traffic and shadow work. The rustling green leaves of a silver maple sound like placid waves as they roll into shore, and the tinny bells of a gravestone wind chime sing in time with the branches. She is warm, so she removes her scarf and lets the breeze lift and separate her curls from her itchy scalp. Her eyes close as the breath of these moments tickles her neck.

She lifts her arms and begins to massage her own scalp, the sensation so refreshing she unties her braid. She runs her fingers through the hair in tiny sections, letting the breeze wash it for her. When she encounters a knot, she gently pulls the hairs free, one by one. She leans her head back, so the full length of it cascades free behind her. Her hair is thin and oily, but to her it moves in slow motion like a mermaid sunbathing. The ability to work with her own hair has been long denied. It is then that she looks down at her hands. They look the same, but they feel different. She wiggles and bends and stretches the joints. She picks up a hair that landed on her skirt with the precise dexterity of tweezers. She brings the hair close to her face and she can see every detail: a dull shimmer of a strand with a tiny knot and split end. Her fingers hold it lightly, and then she opens her grip and blows the strand free.

NellFae scratches her chin; she feels good. A veil has lifted from her vision, years of earwax must have melted away, and the invisible vices that tortured her hands have released their grip. She straightens her legs to look at her feet in front her. She can see that she is wearing men’s tennis shoes. She knew they were too big, but she didn’t realize they were men’s shoes until now.

Her prayers must have changed something.

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