Robert Tremmel

When you step through the back door into the kitchen father is still sitting at the table with a newspaper folded open in front of him and pen raised, working the crossword puzzle. In the living room mother is sleeping her peaceful sleep at last, in a purple robe, with her head back, slippered feet up and twisted knuckle hands crossed right over left in her lap. Through the south window in your old room you see leaves on the giant ash tree turning yellow again in setting sun and falling slowly to the ground and one by one all the questions you ever had become clear. Number one across: a four-letter word for no longer. Number one down: an eleven letter word for gone.