Writer’s Choice

My father puts his hands on my shoulders. I haven’t seen him in ten years, but he looks good.

The city of Page sleeps as I slide my leg over my motorcycle. The sun crowns over the horizon and sets the desert aglow.

There they were. A family of two. In a house with strong bones and a living room ready to hold them.

I had no more an idea of what to expect as I would going on a blind-date in a black hole…”

His black dog led him to a noose at the end of a rope. I was fearful she was on a similar path.

In my mind I beg her silently, don’t ask him about memory loss. He remembers the words to the songs that make him happy.