James McBride

For months after my stepfather died, Mommy walked around the house as if she were blind, syaggering through the motions of life. She gave away Daddy's clothes, his tools, his hats... gone to the Goodwill. She sent us off to school and tried to maintain her crazy house as usual, ranting about this and that, but the fire was gone. In the evening she often sat at the kitchen table completely lost in thought. She's stop in midsentence and walk away silently, covering her face. At night she cried in her bedroom, though she always hid her tears from us. daddy's gold Pontiac sat in front of the house for months, leaves gathering around the tires and bird crap gathering on its hood.