Why they wore black

I know why those Sicilian widows wore black.

That scratchy wool dress told everyone in the village, "Lay off, go easy, touch me gently."

Seeing that scratchy wool dress hanging like a sack over her rounded waist, the fishmonger dared not press his heavy thumb onto the scale, the priest brought wine for dinner, the shopkeeper scooped lentils into her apron. They knew how the recently dead could hover and dared not tempt the evil eye.

"Be kind to me," her black dress said to the woman whose house she cleaned, to the goats she milked, to the chickens that laid perfect pink eggs all winter long.

What I don't know, however, is when or if she considered something different, a splash of color along the neckline, a silver broach at the breast, the purple shawl passed down from grandmother to mother.

She wasn't that old, didn't walk with a cane, could still remember the pleasure of walking barefoot through the wet grass. It had been over a year since he had left her alone and she had worn the black dress every day since his death.

It hung looser now than when she had first put it on, stained from the grease of a thousand meals. She cleaned it every week in the river where the women went to wash and bath.

One Sunday morning, before the sun had risen over the Messina hills, she made her way down the stone path to the river to wash. Starting from below her hips, she gathered dress into folds and drew it up over her head. A breeze sent ripples across the water, across the tiny hairs of her skin. She pulled off each worn leather shoe, each wool stocking, and walked over the hard stones to the edge. The cold took her breath away but she continued walking holding the black dress gently and firmly like the infant they never had. Deep inside the river, halfway to the other shore, she stopped and waited while the sun crested the hills. A blue heron glided high above the cedars. She was surprised to see how far she had come never before having ventured this far out. The current was strong. The thought that she might get swept away didn't frighten her.

She pressed the billowing dress into the water until it lay wavering just underneath the surface. Then, she let it go.