Posted on Feb 12, 2017


Today I dipped my spoon into the sugar bowl and brought it toward my chai tea, fresh ginger spicy, the scent entering my nose as I drew it to my cup. As I did, a thin stream of sugar poured, gentle and sparkling, from my spoon onto the counter  toward the cup, and then my hand was my father’s hand holding that spoon trailing sugar toward his forever cup. Stinging tears of mourning, sadness, longing and loss shook me. You are gone, and you are gone and you are gone until my next cup of tea.

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