Suddenly he’s shaking my hand, handing me his backpack, removing his suitcase from the trunk of the cab, asking if my father is home. Later! I shut my eyes, say the word, and I’m back in Italy, so many years ago, walking down the tree-lined driveway, watching him step out of the cab, billowy blue shirt, wide-open collar, sunglasses, straw hat, skin everywhere. It is the first thing I remember about him, and I can hear it still today. It sounded harsh, curt, and dismissive, spoken with the veiled indifference of people who may not care to see or hear from you again. I’d never heard anyone use “later” to say goodbye before. “Later!” The word, the voice, the attitude.
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AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
December 2022
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