grout

the lights are off so as to not wake the neighbors, i am awkwardly sitting on the dimly moonlit tile of my mother's kitchen. the fan in the opposite room is frantically spinning such as to take flight with hopes of stirring up just the right medicine to rid the air of its overwhelming heat. i have removed a yellow candle from the closet that my mother has dedicated to all of the candles that she has received from my brother and i for the past ten christmas' but never burned. i strike a match from an anonymous match jacket found in my shirt pocket. i hold steady for a moment. as the oxygen is sucked in from the open window by the distant fan it is then pushed forth in my direction and subsequently providing increased life for the flame that remains balanced between my fingertips. i slowly guide the flame towards the yellow candle: "mr. flame, this is ms. yellow candle" i mumble softly as if i were introducing the two for the first time, "enjoy each other's company, and if you need anything at all, just contact the plastic circle up on the ceiling and, well, he will pass the message to me. " you see, i would be quite busy.

quite busy indeed as it happened to be. the grout between each porcelain tile piece had transformed from a pure and almost blinding white to a colour that bears the mark of two kids and a dog- that being dirty. over the years, you see, i have become quite accustom to this imperfection: ice cream, like on a playground slide wildly flailing out of my bowl and onto the ground. having my older brother teach me step by step how to make spaghetti and testing the readiness of the pasta via baseball pitching a strip of it towards the cabinets with hopes of an adhesive-like stick, but without prevail. brownie mix strategically making its way from the mixing bowl to floor. the nostalgia lasts a moment or two as i sit with cleaning brush in hand in anticipation of cleanliness. the past fades as i take the yellow candle (who is getting along just fine with mr. flame) up with my left hand and tilt it for increased visibility. i begin to scrub. the horribly off-white slowly begins to fade leaving a bleached white smile in between each tile.

i continue in my laborious task for hours.