From todays writers almanac: Negative Space by Ron Koertge My dad taught me to pack: lay out everything. Put back half. Roll things that roll. Wrinkle-prone things on top of cotton things. Then pants, waist- to-hem. Nooks and crannies for socks. Belts around the sides like snakes. Plastic over that. Add shoes. Wear heavy stuff on the plane. We started when I was little. Id roll up socks. Then hed pretend to put me in the suitcase, and wed laugh. Some guys bond with their dads shooting hoops or talking about Chevrolets. We did it over luggage. By the time I was twelve, if he was busy, Id pack for him. Mom tried but didnt have the knack. Hed get somewhere, open his suitcase and text me—Perfect. That one word from him meant a lot. The funeral was terrible—him laid out in that big carton and me crying and thinking, Look at all that wasted space.
Posted on: Tue, 07 Oct 2014 12:12:22 +0000