12:15 am

I think it was 12:15am.  

I heard Mom’s phone ring. 

I heard her say a few words 

and then pull the sheets back. 

I heard her feet on the floor 

and her hand on the door knob. 

 

I heard her walking to my room 

and open my door. 

I willed her not too. 

 

But she did. 

And she whispered my name. 

And I answered. 

But I did not want too. 

 

He’s gone. 

She said. 

Okay.  

I told her. 

You okay? 

She asked me. 

Yes. 

I lied.  

They want to know if we want to see him.  

She said. 

It’s not him anymore. 

I answered. 

I know. 

She said. 

 

And I heard her feet fading back to her room. 

Heard the door close. 

Heard her sit on her bed. 

 

I got up and left the house 

for the darkness of night. 

  

Just talk to him

 Steve Earle plays on cd from the corner of his room. 

I picked an earlier album, one Dad liked. 

 

I’m alone. Maybe it’s evening, or maybe I’m just thinking it was. 

 

You probly don’t know what’s been going on with all of us, huh, Dad? 

I speak in a half whisper. 

It’s been awhile since you could keep track. 

I guess someone should fill you in. 

 

I’m still in Idaho. Still hunting. 

We don’t use the McCall site much anymore. 

I know you really liked that site. 

But it got too busy out there. 

Too many people. 

 

We have a house in Grangeville. 

You haven’t seen it. 

It’s alright. Nothing fancy.  

I think you’d like it though. 

 

We’re gonna try an sell the business. 

Not sure what we’ll do then.  

Maybe move to Nevada. 

 

I went to New York. 

That’s a crazy place. 

And we went to Florida. 

 

I remember you went to Florida once. 

You called to tell me about the parrots.  

Well I saw them. Wild parrots.  

I called to tell you about them. 

Maybe you remember. 

 

I don’t know what else to tell you.  

Nothing too exciting going on.  

I just wanted you to know what we’ve been doing. 

Maybe I’ll think of more to say tomorrow.  

 

My dad died that night.