EKPHRASIS : Art Describing Art : 2015
California Writers Club, Mendocino Branch : A Collaboration : Artists Co-Op of Mendocino
Writers Responding to Visual Artworks
Nona Smith “Summer of Liam and Dora”
Responded to visual artwork by
Shanti Benoit “This Sickness”

"The Summer of Liam and Dora" by Nona Smith
Everything changed the summer I turned five. First of all, my attention-grabbing baby brother Liam was born. I’d understood a baby was growing inside my mother’s tummy, but I was surprised to discover the word “born” meant he would come out and live with us forever.
The second thing that rattled my world was the arrival of Dora. Standing at our living room window counting lady bugs that crept through a soft spot under the sill, I saw a taxi stop in front of our neighbors’ house. A woman whose age I couldn’t determine stepped out of it, a vision in brown––limp dark hair, unfashionably long skirt, all brown, brown, brown. And there was something about the droop of her shoulders that looked sad, even to my five-year old eyes.
The front door opened and Mr. and Mrs. T (the closest thing I had to grandparents) ran down the stairs to greet her. Mrs. T hugged the woman tightly, wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the house. Mr. T hefted her scuffed suitcase and followed them. A feeling I couldn’t name flooded me. If I’d known the word, I’d have called it displaced. But it turned out it was really Dora who was displaced.
Standing by the window, looking over at the Ts’ closed door, I sensed a fluttering on the back of my hand. A ladybug was making slow progress down the highway of my middle finger.
“Don’t be afraid.” I could hear Mrs. T’s heavily accented voice when she’d first told me about them. “They bring luck, those. Close your eyes. Wish and blow. If the beetle is gone when you open your eyes, your wish will happen.”
I closed my eyes and wished that Liam and Dora would go back where they came from. I blew. When I opened my eyes, I saw the ladybug on the windowsill, struggling to right itself. I guessed that wish wasn’t going to happen.
The next day, Mrs. T called. “Come over and meet Dora. Have tea with us.”
I sat on our couch, unwilling to move.
“Come on, Sara. Don’t be so poky,” my mother coaxed. She held Liam high on her shoulder.
I shook my head. “I’m not going.”
Massaging small circles on Liam’s back, she came to sit beside me on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
I shrugged.
“You know…” Her voice was soft. “Dora doesn’t know anyone in this whole big country except the Ts. We could be her first friends.” She paused to give me time to consider this. “You could help her learn to speak English.”
I wasn’t convinced. “Why is she here? How long is she staying?”
My mother sighed. “Dora’s had a very…hard time, Sara.” I sensed she was choosing her words carefully. “If you taught Dora some English words, then you’d be able to ask her those questions yourself.”
The thought occurred to me then: Liam didn’t know any English words either. If I got busy now, I could teach them both to express themselves, find out how they got here, and help them return to whenever it was they came from.
I got up from the couch with renewed spirits. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go meet Dora.”
Everything changed the summer I turned five. First of all, my attention-grabbing baby brother Liam was born. I’d understood a baby was growing inside my mother’s tummy, but I was surprised to discover the word “born” meant he would come out and live with us forever.
The second thing that rattled my world was the arrival of Dora. Standing at our living room window counting lady bugs that crept through a soft spot under the sill, I saw a taxi stop in front of our neighbors’ house. A woman whose age I couldn’t determine stepped out of it, a vision in brown––limp dark hair, unfashionably long skirt, all brown, brown, brown. And there was something about the droop of her shoulders that looked sad, even to my five-year old eyes.
The front door opened and Mr. and Mrs. T (the closest thing I had to grandparents) ran down the stairs to greet her. Mrs. T hugged the woman tightly, wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the house. Mr. T hefted her scuffed suitcase and followed them. A feeling I couldn’t name flooded me. If I’d known the word, I’d have called it displaced. But it turned out it was really Dora who was displaced.
Standing by the window, looking over at the Ts’ closed door, I sensed a fluttering on the back of my hand. A ladybug was making slow progress down the highway of my middle finger.
“Don’t be afraid.” I could hear Mrs. T’s heavily accented voice when she’d first told me about them. “They bring luck, those. Close your eyes. Wish and blow. If the beetle is gone when you open your eyes, your wish will happen.”
I closed my eyes and wished that Liam and Dora would go back where they came from. I blew. When I opened my eyes, I saw the ladybug on the windowsill, struggling to right itself. I guessed that wish wasn’t going to happen.
The next day, Mrs. T called. “Come over and meet Dora. Have tea with us.”
I sat on our couch, unwilling to move.
“Come on, Sara. Don’t be so poky,” my mother coaxed. She held Liam high on her shoulder.
I shook my head. “I’m not going.”
Massaging small circles on Liam’s back, she came to sit beside me on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
I shrugged.
“You know…” Her voice was soft. “Dora doesn’t know anyone in this whole big country except the Ts. We could be her first friends.” She paused to give me time to consider this. “You could help her learn to speak English.”
I wasn’t convinced. “Why is she here? How long is she staying?”
My mother sighed. “Dora’s had a very…hard time, Sara.” I sensed she was choosing her words carefully. “If you taught Dora some English words, then you’d be able to ask her those questions yourself.”
The thought occurred to me then: Liam didn’t know any English words either. If I got busy now, I could teach them both to express themselves, find out how they got here, and help them return to whenever it was they came from.
I got up from the couch with renewed spirits. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go meet Dora.”