02:46 Santa Fe, New Mexico

Posted on April 18, 2010


― A mother lies asleep, dreaming. Goose is in the oven, green and red cabbage on the stove, boiling away, dumplings ready wrapped in warm towels. Two of the kids have been charged with setting the table. Peace before the storm because I can never remember how I cook goose since I only do it once a year, usually in a daze. On my bed: half-wrapped presents and a book that I started before the feast hit us like a bullet train: one of those luxury ships on rails where they cook, serve, chat and create unearthly comfort all at the same time. Would’ve been nice to travel away from all this in one of those. The Europeans are worse off: they have to hand out presents tonight, too. When did I last look out the window? Is it snowing? Two more kids now under the table, fighting the others for who is allowed to choose the dishes. They keep me busy. Goose, don’t forget the goose is in the oven. I’d like a man around, any man really, preferably their father. My only two dresses: I am the worst mother in the world. I am the best mother in the world. Which one am I going to wear tonight? Who will care? I want someone to care.

(Excerpt from ‘Faces’ – all of the Earth’s 24 time zones on Christmas Eve)