I still haven’t bought gloves, though I had steel-toe boots for awhile. Callouses are waiting for you to lay hands bare to everything you own. You can go years without feeling the bottom of your own table.
I moved Dad into his new house. This brings the total to 18 moves in 10 years. Mostly in 20 hour windows. You were around for 7 or 8 of them
I read once that most of dust is actually stardust from micro-meteorites. It’s not true. It is actually dead pieces of you. I’ve inhaled more of us than anyone.
Item highlights:
250 lb. End table with hidden safe inside Combination: unknown Garbage bag with mom’s clothes and one Phillips-head screwdiver Four landline phones tangled with their cords in a laundry hamper Seven phonebooks in a neat cardboard box
Madalyn: Dad still has the small wooden sign you made him the one that says “Dad’s Workshop” in blue glitter-paint.
Steve: Dad has recently bought a toaster oven, and he loves it as much as you love yours. He gave me the same speech about the difference in the taste of hot-dogs.
You are both still in the pictures at his house. It startles me when your faces appear on the screensaver.
Written 2011 during the MFA program at Columbia College Chicago