“Clamber”
We didn’t mean to get lost, but it was cloudy that day. Thirty minutes into the run, we trotted over a rusted cattlegate, feet thumping over the cracks - I felt a little fear - and beyond it lay a sweep of downhill.
Airily, you asked: “Do you think it’ll be hard coming back up?” and I replied yes, maybe, we’d see. Forty minutes later we were on an upslope kicking pebbles with no clue where we were. The world was hills and rocks, green and gray, and no cell service. Eventually we asked a hiker for his map, turned east toward the trees, and began our climb to concrete.
heaving fog:
hitchhikers at large
tear up the mountains
2. Stay
Comfort is a creature of habit. It nestles into the living room sofa cushions, wraps around the kitchen sink and toys with the faucet. This summer is idle and unusually cold, making home—warm and safe—a prime habitat for loafing around.
The evening noise is crickets and owls outside; rubber slippers on hardwood floors inside. A box in my father’s closet houses stacks of yeye’s ink paintings, pictures of a boyhood baba crawfish hunting in urban creeks—way back before America, way back when home was cars blasting Danny Chen and fried fishballs with sugar soda and Hong Kong in its glory days.
hallway light–
baba hums tunes heard
aboard an ‘86 boeing
Editors: Uzayer M.
Image Source: Rob Wingate, Unsplash