12/24/2023

I have returned to the desert for a time. After two days of rain, the sun has emerged. It streams through the windows of my childhood bedroom in brilliant beams.

Indoors, the heat builds by degrees. Outside, low clouds cling to the nearby peaks. I listen to the sound of my mother’s slippers scuffing on the brick floor as she moves around downstairs and the high, frantic beeping of the automatic gate as my brother’s wife goes out and then returns. When I look out the window, I seem my nephew on his new bike, navigating the muddy section of the driveway with surprising aplomb.

He is six years old. On our first evening here, I hid his toy boat in the pocket of my sweatshirt. This turned into a game. Last night, when we were parting for the evening, he hugged me with surprising force and assured me we would see each other tomorrow. We would play boat again.