I Returned For Thanksgiving To Find My Parents Gone—And My Father Waiting

against ceramic bowls.

It was the companionable silence of two soldiers sharing a foxhole, waiting out a mortar barrage together.

“You know,” Victor said suddenly, his voice thin but clear, breaking the silence, “I saw the look on your face when you came in.”

I looked up at him.

“The smell,” he continued, his eyes dropping to his lap with shame. “The… continue reading …