NAIRI

I always go to dad’s grave. Sometimes if I’m quiet I can hear him speak to me. Then when I hear him I don’t miss him so much. But when he’s quiet again I miss him even more than usual. So even though I love hearing him it’s also terrible.

I wish he were here.

Today I told him about the boy I met at school. Well I didn’t really meet him. He never spoke to me. But he waved at me. I didn’t wave back. I didn’t want anyone to notice what he had done. What if they’d treat him differently? He’s new. That’s all. Sooner or later he’ll know. Then he’ll be just like them. But for a moment I let myself believe that he was different.

“Daddy, you remember the stories?”

I looked around fo...

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