Afterlife

by Julia Alvarez

The landscape of grief is not very inviting. Visitors don’t want to linger. The best thing you can do for the people who love you is to usher them quickly through it. She does not want to become “poor Antonia.”

in the wake of the wake.

All those moments she was too busy to help Sam dig up his potatoes in the garden, to come quick to the window and see an unusual bird that just landed on the feeder. There will be a lot of these little kicks at her heart in the days, months, years to come.

amanuensis

The box must be full, a sure signal to burglars. Although, come to think of it, what’s there to steal? The most valuable thing they could take is gone.

When she taught The Odyssey, Antonia would point out to her students how being a host involved certain protocols: before all else, there was the greeting, the foot washing, the feeding. Only after the guest had been properly attended to came the payback: tell me your story.

But even the beauties of language, of words rightly chosen, are riddled with who we are, class and race, and whatever else will keep us—so we think—safe on the narrow path.

somehow (the beloved adverb of dreams)

Strange bread people cast upon another’s needy waters.