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October 2013, vol 9, no 3

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Marjorie Buettner

Whisker Rub

My grandpa called it a whisker rub – I loved this rough love, since it was the only time I could get close to him. One time I saw him crying at the kitchen table after my grandmother died; I wanted to hug him then but I left him alone with his loneliness – now that loneliness is mine.

Memorial Day –
a deer crosses over
the graves