January 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
I remember the boat my grandmother made for me from bamboo leaves. One for the hull the other tall and full of winter chill. She crouched at the shore like an old bird, shoulders hunched around her neck her head all woolen hat with its long speckled feather waving at me, and like her spoon in a bowl of tomato soup, she lay the boat down gently till it bopped on its own. I held my breath and watched it go.