Instructions for My Mother’s Funeral

After the Hysterectomy

23 After the Hysterectomy It’s raining so hard the drains can’t inhale it fast enough so water swirls in the streets. My mother is smaller beneath the sheet as if what they’d taken from her weighed more than a thin bag you fold and put away after a trip. She used to wear a quilted robe splashed with blue and orange like a palette. The belt stopped closing, and I saw her body beneath it. When my brothers were born, she was uncovered, which I thought was courage. I lean over her now and tell her about the rain tonight, how there’s too much water like the times we left the hose in the kids’ pool too long and it overflowed. When we dumped it out, it left a bright green circle on the grass. ...