The Roadside Stand
My parents home is like a roadside stand. Once the sun is up
they are open for business.
My father sits in his over-stuffed chair wearing his age like a cloak wrapped tight about his shoulders. He looks out the storm door and waits for the mail lady or the
maintenance man to drift by so he can encourage them to let go
of the pushcart of busyness they've been pushing.
'Come on in and listen to me for a while! ', Dad smiles at them without speaking.
Hoping they might stop and reali