Plunk.
I look at her still face. The little droplet of recently fallen water stands out against the smoothness of her skin.
Plop.
Another drop falls, and joins the first. At least the two drops have each other, you know?
She looks relaxed. Happy, even. For the first time in as long as I can remember. Which I guess isn't saying much. I've only known her my whole life. I'm sure others could remember her before me. Maybe her smile reached every corner of her face once, but that I can't know for certain.
Her hands are still now. That's not how they usually are. She fiddles with things all the time. Sometimes it's my hair, she likes to twist it, put it in braids. Sometimes it's her silver necklace. I remember that it used to be very shiny. Lately, though, it's gotten dull and tarnished, like its sparkle mirrors the sparkles in her eyes, which have also faded into a tired shine.
Plink.
I can't tell if her eyes are sparkling now. They're closed.
When I was littler I was scared of the rain. I said, Mama, why does the sky have to cry? What if something bad happened in Heaven? She told me not to worry, the rain is just the sky cleaning out it's cloudiness, so there can be clear skies later. That's what I think of, with all these drops adding to her landscape of freckles.
Plonk.
Plink.
Do you ever feel sad when you watch the people you love sleep? It twists my heart, because that little smile, that peace in every line of their body, tells me they like it better wherever their hearts take them, and not here with me. Their hearts always come back, though, so I can tell myself that here with me isn't quite so bad.
Plunk.
Not this time, though. Not this time.