Dad was too much like Adelia for Mira. It was inevitable that those two lions would eventually clash.

He was a man that always thought he was right. Lived in terror at the thought he was wrong, actually. Just like my sister-in-law, with whom Mira once lived as a dependent, once upon a time. Being a man sure of his convictions, he had many opinions on how Mira (and I) should live. As a veteran of the man’s style, I ignored whatever he said that didn’t suit me. Mira, unfortunately not so experienced, did not.

She bristled. Often.

It’s hard to grasp that almost 12 years has passed since he died. Meanwhile, we’re almost two months in the apartment now. Two months since we sold the home that we first bought together as a mother-daughter.

What would he say about that?

blue sky

a resurgence of

summer heat

the old backyard

hopefully still green

for Tanka Poets on Site: Gerry Muse #379. Prompt for 28th October 2023 My Father