The Ranch

Dad was sick for long enough that the family suffered with him. He fought against the encroaching black of debilitating illness and pain, struggled under the weight of failing lungs and a body that lost interest in obeying his commands; finally, he signed the surrender contract. Now he is free. My sister and I eventually returned to the place we knew him best, the ranch where we knew laughter in long grass while we chased grasshoppers through their mad, clacking flights. We didn't speak, we didn't need to. As we sat, the grass rustled beside us with a peaceful sigh and the three of us just remembered for a while.