I Came Home From Okinawa To A Sold Sign On My Lawn

of.

And the co-owner listed beside my father’s name was Martha. My Aunt Martha.

My dad’s sister, the one who always sent me fifty bucks on my birthday and baked those lemon squares I loved.

The one woman in the family who, I thought, was unconditionally kind.

My head swam. Nothing made sense, and yet, a horrible new kind of sense was starting to form. continue reading …