Oct 2014
Today is Sunday.
You watch your mother in her long green dress walk quietly over the sprinklers in your front yard. You don't even question the reason, you question how someone can do everything so slowly, how someone can be so fragile and yet never afraid.
Today is Sunday.
You listen to the gravel being pushed underneath the tire of your Father's car as it comes down the driveway, and you don't hear anything else for the rest of the week.
You watch your mother in her long green dress walk quietly over the sprinklers in your front yard. You don't even question the reason, you question how someone can do everything so slowly, how someone can be so fragile and yet never afraid.
Today is Sunday.
You listen to the gravel being pushed underneath the tire of your Father's car as it comes down the driveway, and you don't hear anything else for the rest of the week.
