Heart-Shaped Pillows

Day 70: Heart-Shaped Pillows

Hours spent removing old-fashioned ivory flowered wallpaper with a paper dragon and DIF. Pulling up ancient, heavy, filthy rose-colored wall-to-wall carpeting, cutting it into pieces small enough to drag down the stairs and out of the house. Meticulously removing thousands of carpet tacks with pliers to keep soft new feet from being pierced, sliding my own feet along the floor to be sure I'd got them all. Scraping, patching, painting. Heart-shaped pillows, pastel blue comforter, old-fashioned Winnie-the-Pooh wallpaper border, huge brown eyes, thumb in rosebud mouth, great big twin bed with rails. Lying cupped beside her warm little body until she sighs and stills, sleeping myself, exhausted.

I'm no longer allowed in her room, which I lovingly refer to as a toxic waste site. Sometimes, I sneak in and remove old apple cores, cereal bowls with milk puddled in the bottom, empty SmartPop bags, gum wrappers, damp towels. My shirts, my belts, my shoes, my make-up, surreptitiously removed from my shelves, now lost in the rubble.

Come on and take it! Take another little piece of my heart now, baby.

Maybe each of my three young nieces would like a pillow.