Kim Sykes

We had a big fat oak tree right in front of our house.

Our backyard looked like a little small English garden.

It had roses and hydrangeas and daisies and petunias.

You name it, we had it.

He'd bring home sod, too.

And he'd lay the perfect green little square

in the front and back yards and we used to lie on the grass and make angels like the kids up north did in the snow.

It smelled so good.

But there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about Willie and Violet, my parents.

My father's been dead for almost 20 years and my mother for about 10.

But every time I look in the mirror, I think of them.

My mother's eyes and smile and her gestures.

I keep looking for Willie.

I wouldn't know him if I saw him.

I never knew him, really.

But when I see a tall oak tree, that gray-brown cracked trunk, I think of my father's hands and how he used to bring home flowers from my mother's garden.

Thanks.