I Returned For Thanksgiving To Find My Parents Gone—And My Father Waiting

my thumb tracing gentle circles on his paper-thin skin, counting the seconds during the pauses.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…

Wondering each time if this pause would be the last.

“Jana,” he whispered during a moment of lucidity, his voice barely a thread of sound.

“I’m here, Victor.”

He looked at the ceiling, his eyes glassy and continue reading …