a man told my sister our parents would disappear. It was a party at the neighbors’ house. My brother was asleep on the porch. My sister was playing on the lawn.
He was a nice man. He asked who she was; she proudly pointed next door. He looked at his watch, then down the street. He was surprised we were still there. Our parents not yet caught in the silt, like so many in this town. Wrestling the water until they became grist for the reeds. About ten years, he said, checking his watch.
And he was right.