You Could Make This Place Beautiful

by Maggie Smith

I was supposed to be at VCCA for two full weeks. But on the ninth night, I woke up around 2:00 in the morning and felt inexplicably frantic. I had no idea why, but I knew I had to leave. I packed my things, left a bottle of wine and a note for my new friends, and slipped outside. It was pouring rain on Mt. San Angelo, and the road winding down the mountain had no guardrails, and there were deer crossings, and I had to creep along to stay on the road, but I kept going. I drove straight through to Bexley, about seven hours, and arrived at my house late morning. I knew it was naptime at the daycare, so I waited an hour, then went to pick up Violet. I cried when I saw her. We both cried. She looked somehow different, older, to me. Later, talking to my husband about how Violet did while I was gone, he told me she’d been fine all week but had woken up around 2:00 that morning, crying, inconsolable. This is a story about magical thinking. She called me down off the mountain in the rain.