D— by Terry Bain

D —

April Thirteenth

Lake town postmistress (I’ll
call her D—) was my earliest news
aggregator. We had no mail delivery,
so every human soul had to tend
the P.O. for the latest in bills from the
P.U.D., letters from pen pals with
indecipherable handwriting, and 
Columbia House bulletins.

D— spent her day receiving and
distributing headlines
and at dinner in the evening
we might speak ill of this habit
immediately before sharing
what we’d learned.

My last day in her office,
filling out forms for selective 
service, I examined the
faces of America’s Most
Wanted, wondering if I’d
ever seen number three
or seven, or if, indeed, number 
nine was dividing us up each
Friday for dodgeball, shirts versus
skins.

It seems there is more
to this small town story, but I don’t 
feel like telling it today. It’s not 
because the wounds are too 
fresh, or because I have lost
contact with their memory,
but there is something more
visceral I want you to know: a 
moment ago my dog — an 
Australian shepherd — jumped 
onto the sofa and put her head 
in my lap.

This is the news I want to hear
about. This is the news I am 
honored to share.

Terry Bain is the author of You Are a Dog and We Are the Cat ‡ TwitterInstagramLetterboxdTinyLetter
Copyright 2019 Terry Bain