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Arts and Crafts
… And it came to me that the women in my life were to be crafted in art. Each one, their memory embodied by a cut, in a shape on the paper before me. As generic as possible, each one was shaped by the scissors. They cut crisp edges for each girl uniform. Each girl was simple in white paper—a head, arms, legs and a dress. Their hands connected, a chain—a chain of memories; a line of the time that was my life.
No marker would distinguish each paper doll from the other. White they stood, hand in hand, a girl and a girl and a girl. At the end there was one boy cut. He was with one hand out, reaching back to nothing, the nothing, the present of where I am.
My eyes scanned from boy to girl to girl to girl. Connected, they held hands, a paper trail of various memories. Sex, deceit, love, friendship, cheats, fights, moments and such to a final end doll—who was the first I knew.
For a moment, in a wash, I grew confused. The dolls were so similar, yet each section of paper was a novel representing a thousand pages. Memory after memory became generic in their comparisons and unique in the individuality of each cutting cut.
Time passed, an eternity till my thoughts slowed. I stared at the chain of dolls and I had an idea.
I began to roll the chain up, one doll on another. Inside was the boy, rolled inside a girl inside a girl. Around and around they wrapped ‘til the last girl’s hand hung out from the roll. Precariously it dangled loose, threatening to unroll, to let me out of the paper embrace of each girl.
With one hand I removed a piece of tape from the dispenser. I watched the girl’s hand wave to me, waving goodbye. With one finger I pinned the hand to the roll and smiled as I taped it down, sealed… I truly should never be in love.  Recommend this page to a friend
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Le Kaidan
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