In the silence of the moon, and the twinkling of the stars, I find solace when the world is being erratic again. They are the only constants in my life.
My children are older, my husband too. Even I am not the same. News of more death as my people age back in my land of childhood, sends another pang of guilt for having given up my roots for greener pastures.
Was it worth it? Is it truly greener? Cleaner air, a bigger home, A/C. Sure. But greener? It’s too late now anyway. My children have roots here. This is home.
Right? Right?
Only the barred owl answers ,”Who cooks for you?”
I laugh hysterically.
Another is dust
The pathway is enshrouded
My feet shuffle on
