Thump

by Yash Seyedbagheri

cold tea

My life is the thump of footsteps.

Thump, the graceful clickety-clack of Mother’s heels.

Thump, the definitive thump of Dad’s feet.

Thump, the sound of demands.

You’re always unhappy, Penelope. What about your boy?

Thump, Mother’s heels striking a wall.

 He’s yours too. Don’t make this about him.

Thump, Dad speaking. Duties, obligations.

Thump, lilting tears.

Thump, soft, surreptitious thump, a series. The sound of someone leaving. Dad plays “Misty,” Mother’s favorite.

Thump, the sound of a father and son converging.

Thump.

 Your mother loved lavender.

Thump.

Where did she go?

Thump, the sound of feet, diverging.

Thump, questions settling in.