Posted in fiction, Writing

The Portrait Of A Woman

1.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Mother is happy that after six sons she has a girl to mold in her own image. Father has the look of a boy gifted with his first bicycle. He picks up the phone and calls his friends, home and abroad, and then he has the crazy idea to call random numbers off his head to declare his new status. He will throw a party for my naming because in this new land it is conventional practice after eight days. Mother will buy a whole market for the party, Father will beam like a strobe, the guests will open their palms to take some powder for good fortune and people will long to hold me and breathe in fresh baby scent. I look like a baby rat—wrinkly, shriveled; if I wasn’t so small I will pass for an old woman. But everyone calls me cute anyway. Continue reading “The Portrait Of A Woman”