memories of beauty.

1. every three hours a nurse pricks my mother’s finger to determine whether a dose (or more) of insulin is necessary, and she, smiling in an impish manner, often offers her raised middle finger for the sample. after weeks of this regimen, her fingertips are peppered with circular gray bruises.

2. upon seeing her newly-shaven head i remarked that she resembled the thirty-fourth president of the united states, dwight eisenhower, who ironically entered office in the year of her birth. i’ve since stopped calling her ike in favor of my peach.

3. sometimes you wonder if these images will be the ones that are stored in your head. you worry that maybe a barrier has been erected, like early christians not remembering a world before christ’s birth.

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