Voices
ELIZABETH
SCARBORO
GETTY IMAGES/BLEND IMAGES RM
On Being a Widow
WEDNESDAY MORNING, 7 a.m.,
the radio alarm blaring. Keep
your eyes closed. Don’t move, because you have miraculously woken up in your old life.
The bed’s warm, your husband’s snoring next to you. Only
the snore is more of a low whine,
accompanied by a rough pawing against your back. The dogs,
nudging you to get up. Your brain,
moving slowly, registers this as a
logic puzzle. If you’ve gone back
in time, and your husband is still
here, the dogs can’t fit on the bed,
and the alarm is set to beep.
The dogs do fit on the bed, and
HUFFINGTON
02.16.14