Ham and Eggs by Glenn Tolle

Featured Fiction Fall/Winter 2016 / drawing, “Doctor” by Glenn Tolle


     Madeline made sure to tuck her mother and father in before going to bed lest

they come to her in the night wanting to be held. She would make sure their

comforter was secured firmly under their chins and that their pillows were

without lumps. She would tuck and adjust the blankets so that their cold bare

feet would not get any colder, and she would turn down the oil lamp to a faint

spark whisking in the glass. Then she’d close their door and go to her own bed.

There she would secure her own comforter, check her own pillow for lumps,

adjust her own blankets ,tuck her own cold bare feet in and turn her own oil

lamp to a spark, close her own door and wait. Under her own secure comforter.

Under her own adjusted blankets. Head resting on her own pillow without lumps.

Listing. Cold.


Cold. It wasn’t a just sensation for Madeline. It wasn’t just something she felt

before stoking the fire or filling the cracks in the sod with bits of handkerchiefs

and stockings. It was a life, a color, an emotion. The life she was born into, the color of the

walls, and her parents’ feet the emotion that took residence in the empty pantry in her

father’s chair and mother’s sewing basket.  The cellar of her mind that was

kept for preserving happy memories, like ham and eggs, but was instead stocked

for a never ending winter, every jar filled with nothing. Nothing but cold. Madeline sometimes

wondered what memories like ham and eggs felt like, looked like, and tasted like. She

wondered the same thing about real ham and eggs. Then she heard cold feet making

their way to her door and she went to bed hungry.


And cold.



Glenn is a writer, cartoonist and collector residing in Rochester NY. His father is
by trade a grave digger and his mother…well… just watch the news.