title: scraps of letters, torn up. collected and pieced together by percy grainger

                   *object category: rose grainger correspondence collection**[[1]](<https://www.notion.so/Beloved-mother-s-driving-gloves-her-last-drive-April-1922-53dd47b6a4604f279ad1fb1de235aa1a#_ftn1>)***

sunday morning, she slides her slender hands into gloves. middle-of-autumn-wind dances through the car window. her red plait spills leaf-like down her back. poor insane mother[2], of all the things in the world she loves her son most. oh, she’d bred hornet nests of new births and old deaths, preserving the evidence of his precious life. he no longer needs her, and when the thought enters her head, it refuses to leave, sends mind-stirs like beetles scuttling in her skull. hornets begging to be released- but what they don’t know- is that freedom can be frightful. she sees now, the tender days are far away. she is only skin and bone, and she will suffer.

[1]  Rose Grainger Correspondence Collection, Grainger Museum

[2] ‘Rose Grainger’s Suicide Note’, Grainger Museum.