Category: June 2015

Things in the Shape of Trailers by John Yu Branscum

My father was possessed by a trailer. … My Mom was obsessed with doing paint-by-numbers and would get trapped in magenta jungles for days …

Mid-summer and the rain approaches without much warning. The wind comes up first, sucks a bit of the humidity from the air, and cools things down.

I’ve never touched earth much. Water, yes. As a child, I unbuckled knee pads and thigh straps to lift legs out of their braces.

Okay; this might be shorter than expected, but I keep forgetting most of what I’ve learned…

Something solid and heavy struck the front of my Honda and slid up over the windshield, thumping and scratching as it slid along the top of the car.

You woke up gasping for air… When the pain starts at 3:30 a.m., you suddenly remember your family medical history…

I am going through your things, Dad, and there is the black and white Kodak picture with the curly edges, me on Thunder…

When I try to remember Daddy, who died prematurely from lung cancer…it’s difficult. … What I do remember is just missing him all the time.

Outside my car window, southwest Georgia’s leafless trees flushed black against a night sky the color of burnt sugar. I knew that sky.

For the three years, one month and nine days following my mother’s stroke, fear and anxiety had been my constant, unwavering companions.

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