Del Doughty

Lingering Heat

The long drive back from the Indianapolis airport: it’s dark outside, raining lightly, and the radio’s playing, but I can hear little sobs and sighs from her side of the car. Her mother is dying. Leah cries all the way home, and this morning she is moody around the house. At breakfast she says there’s a feeling of autumn in the air. I agree, but later the sun comes out strong and begins soaking up the puddles from last night’s rain. I take the boys to the park to shoot hoops and run around. The wind blows hard, but it’s a hot summer wind from the south and before long we’re all tired and sweaty. Luke and Jack want to play on the old tank, so I walk over and watch while they clamber up and down the armored sides.

lingering heat
I rest in the shade of the tank
at Memorial Park