unsent letters to my father

Vanathi Shanmuganathan

I. Dear Appa,

Father, when you are gone, a soft layer of frost in the morning at the start of a lengthy day— construction paper covered with glitter laying on the pavement, the warm embrace of my older brother, clinging to his shirt in one hand, clutching a leaf of grass in my other palm, watching as the frost melts away. The driveway, empty.

Father, when you are here, not used to the soft ocean waves that barely brush my feet, show me—how I accidentally brushed against your injured shoulder how the small jolts build up— until the sleeve of your soft sweater no longer just irritates.

It scrubs away at your skin until all that’s left is something raw and true. Show me this truth, the harsh waves against the cliffed coast striking those boulders into a rounder shape.

II. Memento

Carelessly tossing our towels and bags we climb up to the top of Sliding Rock. Thoughts filled with the constant chant of Don’t slip. Appa’s not here to catch you. It’s my friend’s first time, she doesn’t want to go alone. Two of my friends slide down. I imagine Appa and me in their places. Sliding down, reaching the bottom, frigid water collided with me like memories filled with the soft laughter of my parents and me, remembered with murmured insults between my parents as I hide, ears covered, in my room. Wading through the numbing water, Appa’s not here to pull me out. Reaching for my fluffy towel, Appa’s not here to wrap it around me

III. The Sky’s Grief

Standing—head tilted towards the cloudy May sky, Cool rain dripping from the sky —slipping off my face, soaking my hair, weighing down my dress. On the porch —a small closed umbrella idle by the potted jasmine plant.

Running—hands reaching towards my older brother. Running barefoot in damp, uncut grass. Under hot summer sun, I run past the range of the soft spray. Nearly catching Unnun as he turns sharply back towards the patio, the hose, held upwards by Appa’s knee against the arm of the folding chair. A bowl of watermelon by his feet.

Grace Finn