Tragedy at a Hotel
Madeline Shalonov
I wake up to a toasted everything bagel
with cream cheese and numerous seeds to touch.
We are sitting in the dining room of the hotel,
brought together by a tragedy
that occurred many years ago in my family
and altered the horizon where the sun sets.
We received the phone call at sunset
as my dad was buying bagels
telling us that we had lost a member in the family.
At that moment, I lost my sense of touch.
None of us had ever experienced tragedy,
especially while on vacation in a luxurious hotel.
My mother stood motionless on the roof of the hotel,
staring into the midst of the sunset
with the unintentional desire to create more tragedy.
She was on the edge of the roof, stiff like a stale bagel
that has been left out for too long. I touched
her hand and pleaded “please don’t do this to our family.”
We had always been a close-knit family
that consistently traveled and stayed in five-star hotels.
My brother and I played the game of whose hand can touch
the floor of a pool first as the sun sets
above our heads and the smell of toasted bagels
consumes the air…if only we could go back to life before tragedy.
Who knew such a perfect family could undergo tragedy?
I sure didn’t. I know there is no such thing as a perfect family,
but we were as close as the seeds on an everything bagel.
Everything changed one night at a hotel
where my brother snuck out after sunset
and that was the last time we were ever in touch.
My brother had a way of words that always touched
everyone in the room. It is a tragedy
to lose someone whose character was as vivid as a sunset.
Even though I always knew he was the favorite in the family,
I would do anything to not be sitting in this hotel,
grieving his soul over a breakfast buffet of bagels.
I touched my mother’s hand at the table with my family.
As she learns how to cope with this tragedy at a hotel,
I stare out the window into the sunset and finally take a bite of my bagel.
Madeline Shalonov is majoring in biological sciences. She will graduate Rutgers class of 2027. She is from Haworth, New Jersey, and enjoys traveling and going on runs in her free time.
Madeline wrote this poem in a course taught by Joanna Fuhrman, who selected the piece for inclusion in WHR.