First published in South by Southeast, Vol. 15, No. 3, Fall 2008, page 32.
There’s something deeply sad about his old cross-country skis. After years of use, they leaned against the corner of the garage over the winters when he still could have skied, but never did. Maybe they languished only because his sons had grown up and he lacked the company he would have liked. Or maybe the exercise just didn’t seem worthwhile. They still stand in his garage, still accessible, but unused because now he can’t ski—thanks to the drain of diabetes, because the stoop of aging has slowly overtaken him.
one year after,
fresh mountain crocuses
placed on his grave