Last week, when I came downstairs,
my bags all packed for winter break,
I saw my mother sitting in one of the teal swivel chairs in the lounge.
Her legs were crossed and her face still
as the snow clinging to the edge of those big windows.
“I’m ready to go.” She didn’t respond. She just sat there.
Then she looked at me for a moment, then back out the window.
She told me not with her words, but the trembling
outline of her body.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Alex.”
And our outlines crossed.
It had been months since my step father left us
Joh-Jung Writes 