Masks and Faces
Masks and Faces
The family carries on my name as the casket reaches the bottom of the line. The sun loudly wails, its rays getting soaked into the ground. "We will be okay."
The title of man has transferred house, the title of mom is twice the size. Masks on for the new kids around. A new warmth, a new light, a new home. So close to a memory they have long outgrown. But it hangs on the walls to remind them that once upon a time they were nothing more than young kids running down halls, hearing their true names being called. Now they are mom, uncle, dad, wife. Masks on.
"Grandfather, tell me about your childhood. Were you like us? Did you fight with your sister? Did you misbehave when you became a mister? Did you make forts, run buck wild with a torch? Did you have fun? Do you look back on it with joy or fear? Do you wish your sister was still here?"
The family carries on my name as the casket reaches the bottom of the line. The sun loudly wails, its rays getting soaked into the ground. "We will be okay."
