Tag: father
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Streamers
caught up in the stream of things the streamers I made as a 10-year-old still hanging from the rec room ceiling where my father tacked them a long ago place never touched and now a new place that takes me back to when I was 21 and how much I couldn’t enjoy my life then
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Scrambled 81
April 1981. My brother and I are running around the backyard, searching for Easter eggs. It’s cold. Our movements are static, slightly-delayed in my mind—as though this is not a memory but an old slide-show film from the 70s. He’s being nice to me for once, my brother. I remember that. Just yesterday,…
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