At twelve, he begged his father
to take in a game
just the two of them
lakeside
watching the pitcher warm up
this perfect day unfolding
A fast ball
the crack of the bat
ringing in his ears
and someone calling his name
His brother
caught in deep water
struggling to stay afloat
called out to him,
his voice carried on the wind
Their mother,
aproned behind the kitchen door
daydreaming and
whistling an old song,
heard the screams too late
Dark clouds rolled in
as they pulled his brother from the water
lifeless
A father gone deaf, a mother grown silent
a house of grief and blame
If only…
This would be their family story
KateMcCarrollMoore 