For my Mother The words echo: "kurachu samayam tha" "kurachu samayam tha" Give me some time… then darkness comes. She weeps. She knows she’ll never feel the same. Time. In Malayalam—give me some time. Indian curse. She felt it. She didn’t pray enough. Her son was worth more than any diamond. Worth more than any piece of gold. He was singular. All the people knew. She knew. His friends knew, but she knew that he would slip away. Something would take him. But before…she— —She s

She attracted chaos. A beautiful distraction, a painful lesson. Her eyes lit up in the darkest of times. I never asked why for fear they’d go dark again. She held me at arms-length after I broke her. I couldn’t get her back. The more I tried, the further she got. She was never going to feel that pain again. She swept the floors systematically. She liked order, routines. Always starting on the west side. Perhaps her favorite room in the house. The one with books. Where she cou

It’s one of those enveloping, criminally perfect 21st and Garwood Sunday mornings. The sky is burnt orange with hints of salmon peeking through, and the clouds are whipped, silky patches of cotton. Old women with placid faces and French-tied scarves sip cappuccinos at the Black Cat Café, while college kids play Frisbee at Quinton Park. Dozens of taxis pass by filled with hung-over Saturday expats and hipsters are camped out on brownstone stoops staring blankly at each other o