The patio table gets too much sun in the afternoon.

Gran stayed up late to watch This Is Us.

You should watch it, she tells my mom, who hates TV.

Apparently Patty and Jim have never missed an episode.

Mom says, they all say they cry. I don’t need a sad show.

 

What’s happening in New Orleans? Are all the stores closed?

Are your neighbors home? Are you working from home?

What about the couple who went to Belize — what about their cat?

 

Can’t you just make it two weeks? What if it is longer than that?

 

How are you? The knife in gut of questions. Stop asking. I’m begging you. Stop.

 

We should all shut up and hug. Instead, six or more feet apart, we talk.

 

 


 

One Response

  1. Saying so much when you just want to ask one thing…and afraid of it, the question, the answer.

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