I kind of remember the night before, but it’s hard to say.
That morning came like a tidal wave, sweeping away everything we once knew and thought as safe.
I remember being glued to the television for hours, watching everything on repeat, listening to my mother crying in the other room and holding a newspaper, her eyes red and tired.
We saved all of the newspapers.
From then on The Monster had entered our lives: my life.
Continue reading “the monster” »
I clattered the customary three cups onto the counter before remembering the need for the fourth. I held the smooth china, round, white and familiar, then placed it in front of the smiling foreign yet somehow familiar face. New hands ate with the old silverware that night, at least from my limited perspective. It’s not like I had any idea who he was at the time, but I could see tears welled up in his incredibly weathered eyes, each wrinkled with little crow’s feet in the corners. The dark circles revealed leaky blood vessels and thinning skin. He was clearly exhausted. Mother acted unusual as she walked from one end of the table to the other, placing warm cloths beside the dishes. Her head was downcast and her lips pursed as if she was holding back a secret. Surely this wasn’t our usual Seader meal.
Continue reading “the fourth cup” »