Saturday, March 28, 2009


There will not be any peaches this year. The Japanese beetles have got at them again, whole orchard is full of their metallic buzzing and strange smell like honey and rot. My mother is speaking to me, yelling. I don't understand the words but in the roar of her voice I hear I am a terrible daughter. I don't care about my family. I don't care about anyone but myself.

So soon. Just minutes ago, just now, the peaches were little green bumps like fuzzy christmas lights, now swollen sweet, too ripe to touch and too ripe not to rot. Rain of rotten fruit and the ground is slippery under foot. My teeth are rotten in my head. They shift against the muscle of my tongue, I feel them move. They are hollow as the dead bodies of bugs, fragile shells.

I have to get help. I have to hold still. If I do not move my mouth at all, if I do not open my mouth to speak. If I hold my lips and tongue quite still, and breathe shallowly. I will go somewhere. I will find someone who can help me, a man in a white coat will glue my teeth back into place and they will not fall into my hands with a rattle, pearl-white and empty as husks.

My mother raging over me. She floats above the ground. Tall, taller than me, as she is in life still. Her hair long again, because I am a child. She flies towards me and hovers in the air. I am a bad child. I do not love my family. I do not love anyone but myself. There will not be any peaches this year. The peaches are all rotten and the bugs are in them, tunneling.

I will find someone to glue my teeth together. They will not fall, if I am careful. If I am careful, and I do not move my mouth at all, I will not move at all and it will not be too late.


Anonymous said...

Hi Grace,
You should know that I look for new postings from you everyday. You should know that I have many favorite writers, most you've heard of, most who have won awards, one that recently hung himself. You should know I'm reading a book now that won the Pulitzer Prize. You should know I look forward to your writing more than all of these writers.

all the best,

PH said...

Ah, you're amazing. I check your blog every time I get online, too

-(and also much prefer you to DFW, thanks)-

love & light, lady.

Nick said...

I believe it was Freud who said that teeth-falling-out dreams are a sign of sexual frustration/inadequacy. Then again, Freud thought that about everything.

Grace said...

^^Probably. Does anyone dream about anything else?

China Bonding said...

I truly enjoy your writing style. Such feeling and so very engaging, I'm doing my best to emulate, but I'm just a lowly scientist.

cosmiccowgirl said...

I love your posts and look for them frequently, too. Keep on writing, you have an amazing talent. I like this little snapshot from the past. I am, truly, one of your fans.

Anonymous said...

I second everyone on being a big fan of yours. Reading your blog last winter (that is, finding it, deciding it was fantastic, and reading chronologically from its beginnings to the present) was part of the inspiration for me signing up for a creative non-fiction class this quarter. I just hope my material is as accessible and entertaining as yours.

activated charcoal said...

Hmm- I thought teeth dreams were supposed to represent a fear of aging... :/ (Well, that's what my dentist told me, anyway. In this situation, does a dentist's teeth-related expertise trump the psychologist's dream-related expertise, or vice versa? I feel like my dentist gets more reliably inside my head than my shrink... Open me up, poke a bunch of spiky metal things into my mouth, understand perfectly the gibberish that I spit out while you're in there? I will tell you ANYTHING, any truth you want. So, yeah, maybe I've just stumbled onto a new business model. Dentologist? Maybe I'll throw in a free bikini wax just to make sure I nail down a perfect trimvrate of traumatic experiences that all that you schedule yourself to endure on a regular basis.)