Visitation

My parents have just left, heading back to North Carolina by way of any roadside arts/crafts stores. The faucet in the kitchen doesn’t splatter all over the toaster anymore. You can shower with reasonable assurance that the water pressure will be strong enough to cut the lather off of your body. I can indicate left turns without the fear of inattentive crashing into me from behind, and my car doesn’t groan anymore during the left turn. There are cosmos planted in a small window box out front. The grill is silver and clean. The futon is stripped and back in place. There are TV dining trays in the living room with classic country LP covers decoupaged on them.


If you don’t look too closely, it’s almost as if they weren’t here at all, though. The house is cleaner than it was the week before they arrived. Musical instruments have moved from one side of the room to the other.
Tonight will be quiet. G and I will most likely go get dinner. We will come home to a TV playing and we will also most likely watch a full 30 segment without any interruptive conversation. It will be nice. I will remember something I wanted to ask dad to take a look at. Mom and Dad will call to say they are back, that they dropped by my brother’s to say hello to the grandkids.
At home Mom will dress in a house coat and watch home repair television. Dad will go online to get more info about the Zoo where he is taking Stone tomorrow. Mom will go back to making flower arrangements. I’ll work late at the newspaper. G will grade vocabulary tests. The world will start slowly spinning again, and we’ll wait until the next thing breaks.
Was playing: Lakes Of Pontchartain by