I cried on the elevator, then over lunch and later at my desk. It’s funny now. They call me Weeping Will. Weeping Will stands looking at people who know him and though nothing they do is different today their sighs of resignation and the way they hug their file folders to their chests are enough to make him lose his equilibrium because this time I believe it all will come true; we will have our baby and there will be joy on earth. In the barn at the farm upstate there is frost on the windowpane; its brittle little fingers break my heart. Why does the world need one more child? It doesn’t: I do. What wound will she heal? Someone on earth should know how much I love her. Her I will tell in words, with deeds. Finally, I will be capable of deeds. Roof rats scrabble in the loft. The earth sleeps at my feet. Trudging to the house I see my breath like fog and realize I’ve been telling myself a story, my voice fat with promise. The house is listening. I’m telling it what to expect. I see her through the kitchen window bending to a task. Light like honey from the salmon sun on the horizon bounces off the crusted snow and sets her face aglow. It staggers me. I stand and gape. I’ll never make it to the house but here is enough—exactly this close, facing down a billion circumstances with a choice as simple as sharing a glass of water—more than enough for a man with eyes to look without thinking at candlesticks and cupboards full of cookies, at the imponderable curve of a beautiful woman’s neck, and weep for the beauty of the hope we show when we try.
Copyright © January 30. 2008 David Hodges
7 comments
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January 31, 2008 at 2:52 am
verbivore
I love how the narrator looks at himself from the outside in the beginning and then swings back around into his own head and heart to finish the story.
“Her I will tell in words, with deeds. Finally, I will be capable of deeds.”
Stunning. As is that last line. A wonderful novel.
Thank you so much, verbivore. I guess I know you a little. I woke up thinking, verbivore will leave me a comment on this one.
–David
January 31, 2008 at 9:37 am
verbivore
That’s remarkable! I woke up thinking I haven’t spent enough time with your novels lately. Glad I did. And will be back soon this time.
Terrific. Happy to have you back, verbivore!
–David
January 31, 2008 at 1:14 pm
Michelle (artscapes)
Another beautifully woven insight… I really enjoy these!
Come back any time, Michelle. There’s something new every two or three days.
–David
January 31, 2008 at 3:18 pm
litlove
You really touched my heart, David, with this magnificent VSN. It is such a gorgeous moment you create here; I’d call it bliss, but bliss isn’t this grounded, this mindfully alive. I’m captivated by some of the lines, like ‘Someone on earth should know how much I love her. Her I will tell in words, with deeds.’ and the ending, which is perfect. You make me want to deliver this scene to every couple on earth who needs a little hope.
To love and be loved are important, Litlove. And that, I think, is the list. Thank you.
–David
February 1, 2008 at 11:13 am
Wizzer
“…because this time I believe it all will come true”. You’ve done it again – made me read something that just maybe isn’t there. “What wound will she heal” – oh, yes you have me heading in a certain direction.
Congratulations, David, not only is this a beautiful story of hope and belief but full of your usual possibilities.
Thanks, Wizzer. I’m pretty sure the narrator wouldn’t be so overcome with hope if he’d never failed.
–David
February 1, 2008 at 8:11 pm
grantman
“Light like honey from the salmon sun on the horizon bounces off the crusted snow and sets her face aglow..” Wow..what a great picture you have woven here..It took me back to the birth of my daughter and how humble it made me feel to be a witness to the beauty of birth…this is the best one this year! Congratulations….
grantman
Thanks, grantman. This narrator shares your wonder and awe.
–David
February 10, 2010 at 10:45 am
lll
“Someone on earth should know how much I love her.”
This is beautiful.
Thank you, likelovelust. You’ve made me read it again. Predictably, I guess, I am now weeping.
–David