Two-hundred and sixty-seven

[ellajam]

Hi, Emily, well done. It breaks my heart and makes me miss my dad. Here are a few notes to consider, but take them lightly, this is a very effective piece.

Two-hundred and sixty-seven I love the specifics here.
of his books remained.
They were useless to her.
She’d never care to know
about Structural Engineering for Bridges
and she’d never understand his math books,
even if they weren’t in Arabic.
She needed to know.
how he removed stains, this part really evokes missed opportunities beautifully
cut grapefruit, made shwarma,
how he felt about the war,
his marriage, and his American daughter.
She never had the courage to ask,
how have I disappointed you,
what do you wish you did differently--
marry an Arab, become a doctor?

Months earlier, as he laid in his deathbed,
she stood by him, seeking similarities here, maybe "she stood by his deathbed"
between their faces. Eyes, cheeks, smile.
Not enough for the nurses to know she’s his.
“You look more like your mom,” she’s told.
“I have my dad’s eyes,” she pleads,
pushing away the American. I think this may be clear without saying it.
She wants to reach out and touch him,
hug him, let him love her
like she refused as a child,
always preferring her mom instead. I'm not sure you need this line
She wants him to know her regret
for screaming I hate you when she was fifteen
and not listening when he explained. love this part, no period?
how planes flew or how to convert
Fahrenheit into Celsius.
She wants to yell apologies and love-notes
into his brain-dead ears until he wakes up,
wipes the sleep from his eyes,
and tells her it’s okay. We can go home now.

I so enjoyed this, and plan to enjoy it again.

Thanks for posting it.