Might Should by Elise Powers
To be brave and unsure, to hold two contradicting things in the same mouth.
Might Should
by Elise Powers
My grandmother was the only person I’ve ever heard use the phrase might should— the uncommon marriage of two helping verbs that, when joined, suggest both hesitation and intent. To be brave and unsure, to hold two contradicting things in the same mouth. It was a weld of words that, to my child brain, meant almost nothing, like a middle name or a silent e. I might should call her back. We might should go to the grocery store. You might should bring a jacket. After she died, the phrase swirled and sloshed through my brain— pulled me into the undertow where her voice now exists as a shell song. My grandmother was a woman who placed her words like steppingstones: thoughtfully, deliberately. All these years later, I understand why, of the phrases she might have favored, she chose the one that sounded like the hush between tides— one that left a bit of space for pause, for grace, for things still taking shape.
The space between tides.
Love this one! Thank you.