I remember the day I left for Canada.
My parents were virtually silent. My older brother and his wife told me to take good care of myself, and my nephew kept begging me to buy toys for him. I waved goodbye to them as I walked toward the Airport Departure Entrance. My parents didn’t wave back.
nine autumns past...
my parents and I speak
published in Presence, #44, June 2011
A Room of My Own: Crime Scene Tape Haiku - flapping crime scene tape ... the winter sun sheds its last light