Renovato Essay

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“Renovato” Warmth caresses my face, although a searing coldness is evident from with in. I try to open my eyes but my eyelids fail to make the movements. Then I remember, its only been a day since I stared out the window at the top of the stairs. Its only been one day since I wanted to run and keep running till I couldn’t anymore. Reality is settling, “Amy, are you awake?” I hear originating from the open door way. I don’t respond, but do open my eyes. I see a glimpse of a piece of cloth under the dresser near the lower door hinge. As if to be a shadow, a non visible article left and long forgotten. I make small movements towards the object as if trying not to startle it. Only when I am above it I realize it’s a sock, a child’s sock. “Amy?” he says, I do not respond. “what do you have there?” Clinched in my hand is what’s left of a life that once was one reminance of a child that has more life and purpose than the mound visible from the top stairs window. “Its Sunday” he says, I turn with agreeance and mutter “I’ll get ready.” Sunday, a day for thanks, a day for rejoice and family. Not any more, now a day for questioning, a day for remorse. Why? I ask sitting in the front pew. Why my child? The church is filled, but it might as well been empty. I feel the clasp of his hand, which brings no comfort. My eyes focused on the crucifix behind the alter, but my thoughts on the child’s sock between my sweater and my chest. The ride home seemed to last forever, the silence screaming what must be said. Hundreds of thoughts running through my mind and the only word to make it past my lips is “you!” Puzzled he repeats, “you?” “Yes,” I reply, “don’t you feel? don’t you realize what has happened? Its only been a day and its back to usual for you isn’t it? Isn’t it!” He looks forward as to focus on the road. “You have no idea”. I turn to him, “no

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