It Wasn't Like We Talked About it Later.

I was raised by a man with longer pauses than words. Entire conversations have ended with him only saying a few things in between but they were so profound it was worth the long wait. Even when he needed to discipline us for being foolish children, we would wait. Watching his face was no use because he had the same expression for everything which was no expression at all. That was my grandfather’s face. When he was ready to speak he would say something like, “I am doing everything I can for you. How is this what you do to me in return?” with a wave of his palm he dismissed us, not truly wanting an answer. It was for us to think about. Our apologies would unfold almost immediately by making up for our transgressions, with cleaning, cooking, and even the chores no one gave us to do. He would acknowledge said apologies when he shuffled out of his rooms hours later and gave a generous nod. My twin brother and I would smile at each other. What an accomplishment!

The man’s rooms were so sacred to him. We did not go in them without an invitation. We did not go there with slippers on. We especially did not play there. One morning we heard screaming. It was a broken sound. Something you would hear from a wounded animal. Ignoring the rules, we rushed in to find our grandfather kneeling on the floor with his body bowed to the bed. Hand clutching something underneath him and the intermittent wailing. We stayed in the corner of the room, not knowing if we should go to him then he eventually stopped and noticed us. He shifted to a sitting position on the floor, waving us over to him. Holding us on each side of him, palms running down our backs as if to soothe us, He said, “You forgot the no-slippers rule, my boys”.

Our ‘‘Sorry Papa” seemed to echo in the room.

“Okay, we’ll have yam for breakfast. you cut, I will roast”.

“Go pick the yams”

He said all this while running his aged fingers over a family picture we all took years ago. Only three out of seven made it out of the fire. Three of us were having roasted yam and fish sauce this morning, just as Grandma used to make it.