You make the cold winter trek to the convenience store at the corner of your block. You walk into the small store and a blast of warm air hits you. You slowly make your way to the back of the shop and pick out a can of chicken soup and some frozen vegetables. You walk back to the front of the store and hand the items to the cashier who you know too well.

(Editor's Note: This piece will be featured on VPR next week.)

I chopped onions yesterday and I didn’t cry.

two avocados, a smidge of tomato, ½ a garlic clove, a few drops of lemon juice, lots of salt, a dash of pepper, our secret ingredient we always forgot the name to, and ¼ of this onion.

two avocados and a smidge of tomato.
you’ll find yourself crying wondering why this happened to you, because this happens in movies, this doesn’t happen to you.

½ a garlic clove and a few drops of lemon juice. 
you’ll find yourself crying because all you can think about is how it’s been six months without her but everyone around you is happy and the day still continues on.

lots of salt and a dash of pepper.

Pavement chalk
Melted by rain
Many colors mixed together on the faded concrete.

Grass 
Brown and limp
Dried by the sun
Long and uncut.

A faded brick building
Moss and ivy all around.
Roof sagging into itself.

A single swing
Rusty with age.
Blue plastic bright against the gray sky.

A woman
Black sunglasses covering her eyes
Hair pulled up in a tight bun.
Her daughter sucking a lollipop 
Holding mother’s hand.

 “Mommy!” 
The little girl whines.
 “Why are we here?”

 “This was my school.”
The woman says stiffly
Gazing around at the tomb of her childhood

 “Huh. This doesn’t look like a fun school.”

 “Oh, it was.”

 “Can we go now?”

 “Yes.”

And in the last light of the dying sun
They turned and walked back to their car.
The woman’s sunglasses hiding her tears.

The small white sign in the distance grew bigger and bigger as I walked. When I got closer I could make out the small black letters that I knew so well. It read “Blueberry Hill.” That’s one of the things I loved about living here - all the old houses had names, including Grandma’s. When Mom and I moved here I was sad because our house didn’t have a name. Most kids’ favorite day of the year is Christmas, but not me. Every August fifteenth I go to Grandma’s house and we pick blueberries together. It used to be her, me and Grandpa, but he passed away a few year ago. When I got to the door to her house I knocked loudly. After a few seconds she opened the door. Her pepper hair was frazzled and I could see clumps of flour in her bangs. She smiled up at me and said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” I said, eager to begin.

Long delicate fingers dart across the black and white keys.
I like to watch,
The way they move seemingly effortlesly to carry out a melody.
There's an old man on the corner of our street.
I can always hear him playing the piano from an upstairs window,
So I sit on the sidewalk and listen.
Some of the neighbors don't like it,
They say his hands should be still for once,
But he doesn't stop.
He didn't stop.
Now when I go by his house it's empty.
I was the only one who stopped to listen,
who heard the long delicate fingers dart across the black and white keys.
I like to watch
To listen
When I hear the piano, I look towards his window.
But it's someone else.

 

YWP Community Leader Narges Anzali is the featured artist at the Voices of Color Showcase on Monday night! Come out and hear Narges perform some of her inspiring work: Nov. 19, 7-9 pm at the Light Club Lamp Shop, 12 N. Winooski Ave. Burlington.