Parents

. . . sometimes we need to wear our parents’ clothes and look at ourselves for a long time in the mirror.

                                                                 - Alejandro Zambra

                                                               Ways of Going Home

First come the wrinkles or

Those are what we notice first.

The white hair streaks afterwards.

You kiss them on the cheeks

Then suddenly their neat tears fall.

Then comes the elbow pain

Or groin

The heart palpitations thereafter

Then those terrible tiny little fights.

Then the cataracts

The vigils next

Or the early clanging of utensils.

The upset stomach.

Then the plaques

The irises stiffer

Then the teeth start falling off.

The skin spray-paints itself unevenly 

Loosens

Then the joints stiffen...

Then one day

A phone call, an inkling or

While you are away 

Buying groceries

Some random neighbour half-hugs and 

Takes you home

Against your wish.

Then comes the reckoning.

Then one day

Your child kisses you and

Then the tears.

Again.