Back to back, quiet morning, you smiled.
Summer light shown through the glass boxes that made up the kitchen ceiling. I liked the kitchen in grandpa’s house. everything looked yellow. cozy.
Ten o’clock, you came home again from you’re daily routine of morning market. Breathing hard, sort of limping. I decided to stop pretending to sleep. I walked to the back of the house to you. sweating, fans on. goodmorning.
I do what I always do, looked into each bag.
Sat down, still silence, oddly you didn’t turn on the TV right away today.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw your the corner of you’re lips tilt up just a bit. you’re eyes forming an down ways banana. the mango tasted bittersweet. Suddenly childhood memories flash through my head. All the dumplings, broccoli, guava, ice tea, all the food that connected us. You’re small smile every time I walked by with you’re food in my hands. every time I chewed. You barely talked much, but you always always asked If I ate yet, If the dishes were okay, or just to say you’ve been 亂煮 that day. I liked to cry, but I was always you’re favourite.