In my memory, my father’s hands are large. His sturdy fingers, the columns that hold up the Parthenon roof, the pillars that secure the world on the turtle’s back, that hold me as I swing between him and my mother when we walk down the street together. His palms span wide enough to encompass mine, […]
Invite your grandson to have lunch with you. Tell him to bring his girlfriend. Your daughter has told you about her, warned you to keep your opinions on her dark skin to yourself because it’s his choice and she’s a lovely girl and he’s happy, Mum, but you’ll be the judge of that. He will […]
Posted on April 11, 2018
My tongue rolls over the gum where my tooth used to be, pushing the suture into the fold of my cheek. It’s no longer numb from the anaesthetic and pain relievers. There’s an ache that hunkers in my jawline, striking out towards the gum when I’m least prepared.