In the first days back she got out of the car once and nearly collapsed

8 min in bed, 2.18.13.   inspired by The Body Artist by Don DeLillo

It is a dark and silent night outside the shed.  It is a shed filled with books and bugs and a bright yellow light.  A random edifice of kindness.  The sign at the edge of the road says ‘giVe a BoOK-geTA BooK-or $3 A TiTle’.  A lending library/bookstore on the edge of a farm in the middle of nowhere.

She is already hours from the city and the calls of condolence and the dying flowers on the mantle.  The stack of sympathy cards are in a bag with a box of Thank You cards, forgotten by the front door.  Along with the pretzels she packed as a road snack.  She hadn’t thought to bring something to read.  Her only thought was to get away.  Kindness can be so loud when you crave silence.

The shed is full of an electric hum from the fluorescent bulbs and the buzz of the insects it’s attracted.  But there is a peace in the tiny space filled with writings both current and classic, popular and obscure.  She chooses Joan Didion’s memoir of grief and the slim Don DeLillo novel.  She’s always meant to read him.  She’s not sure why she’s taking the Didion, it’s everything she’s trying to escape.  Maybe she thinks there will be pointers.