This America
Broken syllables and jumbled pitches fall out of my mouth as I read a picture book to my children. The roughly brushed paintings on the pages reveal only general figures and obscure the details of facial expressions, so they are watching mine – and I’ve lost control. I’m choking on words from a book intended for children ages 4-9. I’m 32. I pause and hug my babies to gather myself. My kids lean in to me, one on each side, looking up at me and then each other across my chest. I have to explain how we all got here…
…not how we got into this particular embrace, but how we all got here. In this house together, in this city, in this state. In this country. This America.