<alexie's "house fires">
2004-04-27.7:25 p.m.
House Fires Sherman Alexie The night my father broke the furniture, and used the pieces to build a fire, my mother tore me from my bed at 3 a.m. Eyes and mouth wide with whiskey, she told me we were leaving that place and would never come back. We drove for hours, under the gates of this reservation, as she recanted years of life with my father, the man who pulled our house from its foundations and sent us all tumbling down to a cafe in Colville. We took penance in the breakfast special, she told me she forgave all our sins. We drove back to my father, gathering ash in his hands, planning to bury it all in the graves we had chosen for each other.
back /& forth /& frosting
names are often sad