Martin Duguay

The North Wing

I punch in the password to unlock the door. An elderly man in a wheelchair is staring at the ceiling open-mouthed. I cross paths with a woman clutching a baby doll to her breast. Dad is in his usual spot in the hallway. I greet him and ask if he wants to go out to the garden. He ignores my question and takes off his shoes. “Put on your skates, son. You’ve got your skates, don’t you?” Fifteen minutes later, he concedes that it’s a hot summer day and there is no ice. We head out to the garden to meet my sister.

Dad is in a panic as I steer his wheelchair around the garden. He’s convinced a bumble bee is out to get him. My sister and I take him to his favorite spot to calm him down. Our efforts to make small talk with Dad fail. I sit next to him, lost in thought. My sister refuses to give up. “What’s wrong with you today. You talk too much like your brother!” complains Dad. Soon after, he falls into a deep slumber. We wheel Dad into his room. 

steel blades dig and glide
on the frozen pond
one more lap

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About the Author

Martin Duguay teaches at the Department of English Language Education, Yeungnam University, Gyeongsan, South Korea. Whenever he can, he enjoys exploring the countryside on his bicycle.

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