LatinosUSA

By Katya Mills

I stood up in the window frame and fastened the bamboo blinds to the screws and let go. The anchors pulled out of the drywall and the whole thing fell into my arms. Damn. We must have used the wrong drill bit. I jumped down from the couch and you got up there to inspect. You gingerly walked the balance beam on the back of the couch when your foot slipped and broke through the material. It wasn’t your fault. You had quit soda and donuts and salt seasoning and were no longer pre-diabetic. It had to be cheap furniture. I put my head in my hands and cried a little and got over it. Fooled by a sales tactic. My first thoughts were helpless and they were usually wrong. Today was our DIY home improvement project day. Why not find a needle and thread and sew it up? I loved the earthly pleasure of using power tools. Electric drill and screwdriver. Stretching my arms up pressing against the window like a cat. Giving the middle finger to gravity. Grinding the drywall until it turned to white powder and fell on my face and lips. Tasting it. This is my home and I can do what I want. Fuck it took me thirty years working to get it. When we finished we stood back and admired the two bedroom windows dressed in roman shades. How the light waffled eloquently through the cut bamboo. How lovely, the valance draped over the top! How romantic really. You had been watching me and you were already there. We were over letting crap food and tv take us to oblivion. Door dashing our bank accounts to death. We had new life in us! Recipes to cook from scratch. Sad faucets to change out with silver beauties. Extension poles with perfect blue webster brushes to knock out those high hanging cobwebs. New mantras to replace the dull thud of media blitzkrieg. Reach for the sky, my love, reach for the sky!