Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) by Judith Roth

Viking
    Published by the Penguin Group
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    Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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    First published in the United States of America by Viking, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2013
    Â 
    Copyright © Judith L. Roth, 2013
    All rights reserved
    Â 
    The three poems quoted in Serendipity and Me, “The Look,” “I Shall Not Care,”
and a section from “A November Night,” come from the collection Love Songs,
by Sara Teasdale (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1917).
    Â 
    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
    Roth, Judith L.
    Serendipity and me / by Judith L. Roth.
    p. cm.
    Summary: “Sara and her father start to heal from her mother’s death when a white kitten lands on their doorstep”—Provided by publisher.
    [1. Novels in verse. 2. Grief—Fiction. 3. Loneliness—Fiction. 4. Cats—Fiction. 5. Animals—Infancy—Fiction. 6. Fathers and daughters—Fiction.] I. Title.
    PZ7.5.R74Se 2013 [Fic]—dc23 2012014395
    Â 
    ISBN 978-1-101-60280-5
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

FOR MARC , in gratitude and love—from that first
dorm kitty to children, grown, our life together
has been a blessing. . . .



I remember
    my mom quoting
    â€œThe fog comes
    on little cat feet”
    And my dad replying
    â€œMore like big elephant feet”
    Â 
    because the fog here
    in Central California
    is a dense gray wall
    that bellows in its silence
    Â 
    Tule
    sounds like toolie
    named for grass
    growing in wetlands
    where this fog forms
    Â 
    Tule
    sounds like boonies
    like out in the boonies
    where this fog is thickest
    Â 
    like out in the Tule boonies
    where my mom
    was lost to me
    Â 
    forever
    Â 
    Â 

 
    It starts as a tickle
    in the back of my throat.
    Â 
    But I can’t pay attention
    because Mrs. Detweiler
    (the other sixth-grade teacher, not mine)
    is going over prerehearsal notes,
    is saying, Channel your mother, Sara,
    thinking she’s being cute
    because you only channel someone
    who’s dead.
    Â 
    She doesn’t know, I guess.
    Â 
    My teacher shoots her a look
    and tells me, Just be gentle
    when you tuck in the Lost Boys. . . .
    Wendy is very nurturing.
    Â 
    I look down at Miss Conglin from the stage
    and put my hand on my neck
    that feels wider than usual.
    Put my hand on my neck
    where my throat feels
    like it’s swallowing knives
    Â 
    and wish someone
    was mothering me.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    Today is Monday of our
    last week of rehearsing
    before the performance
    Saturday night.
    Our first day for dress rehearsal. . . .
    Â 
    I am in a nightgown
    in front of Garrett.
    It is long and thick and white
    and buttoned high on my neck.
    But still . . .
    it is a little embarrassing.
    Â 
    He sees me blush and says,
    Are you kidding me?
    So you’re in a