The Ekphrastic Review
  • The Ekphrastic Review
  • The Ekphrastic Challenges
    • Challenge Archives
  • Ebooks
  • Prizes
  • Book Shelf
    • TERcets Podcast
  • The Ekphrastic Academy
  • Give
  • Submit
  • Contact
  • About/Masthead

Grit, by Nancy Freund

6/7/2021

1 Comment

 
Picture
The Artist's Garden at Vetheuil, by Claude Monet (France) 1881

Grit

But my palms sting, and there’s sand in my swimsuit bottom, my favourite purple-flowered swimsuit with a trillion tiny yellow buttercups, wet and heavy. She grabs hold of me, her bony-fingered claw, and her coral lipstick mouth moves in the garage. She says to my mother, this can’t all be sand. My mother looks at me, her expression withering – a word I read in a book. Aunt Vick grips my bottoms and kneads my sag. She has no children. She’s not blood, but still, we visit. Spider webs. Spider veins. All the aunts eat lady fingers in the living room, dry cakes, and tea. One cloudy lemonade-from-frozen on her black plastic tray for me. Dainty trembling teacups for the others. Very valuable, she says. They nod, but in the catch of her teeth and lower lip, I see she lies. Spider veins craze her saucers. 
 
I’m supposed to curtsy, thank you, thank you, drink it, run along. Go down to the beach, be back soon, don’t track sand. Now she’s got me in her dark garage. My mother finally speaks: she says it’s sand, it’s sand. They empty me onto the concrete floor. 
 
All grit. My mother leaves, but my aunt won’t let me go. Wet sand, tiny shells and pebbles. Too much lemonade, but I hold that in. Where the sun angles through the open door, her flaming orange hair blazes bright. Her husband who has no vocal cords comes in and holds his electric-razor thing to his throat to bring out robot words, a garbled lawn-mower laugh. He points at my pile. He’s not blood-related either. Before the drive, the aunts said not to be afraid of him, he has an illness. Never smoke, young lady, never touch a cigarette, but he didn’t scare me. It’s the flaring hair that haunts me still, my aunt’s fragile cups and knuckles, her steep flight of ancient oil-paint stairs. Taupe and sinister, uneven in the overgrowth. One thousand burnt-orange-coloured sunflowers up her hill – this is not Van Gogh’s wild yellows, but Monet’s dark idea of them. This is theft and chaos. The steep profusion rising from the Vetheuil Beach, split up the unkempt middle, separated. A Cusco speculum with metal rivets. This is twisted ankles. Knees. Scabs and scars. Treachery and broken steps. Wet, messy hair, a bathing suit hung on a nail to dry. Sneakers full of sand.

Nancy Freund

An American-Brit in Switzerland, Nancy Freund is always hard at work on a novel, but she also loves flash. She has published pieces at Jellyfish Review, Splonk, Hobart, Largehearted Boy, and journals in six  countries outside the US.  She has Creative Writing degrees from UCLA and Cambridge. She’s on twitter @nancyfreund

1 Comment
Judith Sara Gelt link
6/18/2021 12:41:15 am

Oh, I found this to be perfect! I traveled the emotional journey with these stunning images!

Reply

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply.

    The Ekphrastic Review
    Picture
    Current Prompt
    COOKIES/PRIVACY

    This website uses marketing and tracking technologies. Opting out of this will opt you out of all cookies, except for those needed to run the website. Note that some products may not work as well without tracking cookies.

    Opt Out of Cookies
    Picture
    Picture
    Picture
    Picture
    Picture
    Picture
    Picture
    Join us: Facebook and Bluesky
    @ekphrasticreview.



    ​
    ​Archives
    ​

    May 2025
    April 2025
    March 2025
    February 2025
    January 2025
    December 2024
    November 2024
    October 2024
    September 2024
    August 2024
    July 2024
    June 2024
    May 2024
    April 2024
    March 2024
    February 2024
    January 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    May 2023
    April 2023
    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015

    Lorette C. Luzajic [email protected] 

  • The Ekphrastic Review
  • The Ekphrastic Challenges
    • Challenge Archives
  • Ebooks
  • Prizes
  • Book Shelf
    • TERcets Podcast
  • The Ekphrastic Academy
  • Give
  • Submit
  • Contact
  • About/Masthead