Homegoings

She likes to sit on Jo's bed since she left. Scan the room. Remember. Wait. Dark pink linen curtains. Swaying slightly. Shimmering midnight sun beams on the wall that some years ago after Sigrid had crept in Jo told her were the old gods staring at them. Look, there’s your friend Loki making all his twisted babies. Like Fenrir. Yeah. He’s there. And there’s Baldr. Which one’s Baldr. What’s he look like? Baldr’s the one everyone likes. What happens to Baldr. Oh he dies and then all the gods get mad and kill each other and the world ends. What Loki too? I don’t know. I think he messed up or killed Baldr or something. Anyway he was cool. Nobody could tell him what to do. Just like you.  Silver music stand. One sheet suspended sideways like a freeze frame image. Solveig’ song. Pencil markings: SOFT!!! It’s sad isn’t it. Yeah it’s supposed to be. Downstairs when a door slams. Jo wraps her arms around Sigrid and gently leans her chin on the top of her head. One photograph pinned to the wall. The garden. Long grass. Squinting Sigrid in pigtails, mickey mouse shirt. Arms wrapped around Jo at the waist. Jo in a white sundress, puppy Fenrir in her arms. Why wouldn’t she take this with her? A  dark wooden desk, empty and clean except for a black jewelry box. Sigrid wanders over to open it again, as she has done multiple times these last weeks. A little ballerina spins. She closes and opens it again and again, there her mind's eye sketches Jo’s frozen grin.  
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​No flute.