Aunt Kitty's Room

A piece I worked on for my experimental forms class....

Aunt Kitty’s Room

Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

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uspended in a cyclic, always commencing rat race of the week, we laid still at the foot of Aunt Kitty’s bed. It was 7:30 a.m. and even though it was spring, it was upstate New York and as crisp and cold as a December afternoon. It felt good for the three of us – A’donji, Niager and I – all huddled together watching Maya the Bee. Aunt Kitty lay at the head of the bed, trying to sneak in another few minutes of sleep. “Stop wallowing around down there or I’m going to turn the TV off.” Wallowing? We were six and seven-year-olds. Small. “I was just trying to get comfortable,” I said. A pale protest to the brazen, tough-talking woman who we shared the bed with. Aunt Kitty responded with a snore. Niager laughed. A’Donji heard her snore and raised it with one of his own.