As I Played My Nintendo DS,

Now there are none in the field where the men used to tend to our ripe crops. Boot soles left marks in the dirt there. I’ve been told they’re so old, Now there are none in the field where our man used to tend to his ripe crops. Butt of a rifle has damped down the old carpet inside, Doorside; the front door where he used to ease in and make himself: milk, bread. Now there’s no rifle there. Where he. He had once set it down. Later he’d lift it up. Put it up, mark still left. Gun cases hold guns. Four-wheeler tracks in the dirt there. I’ve been told that’s when C Knew there’d be none in the field where he once went to crops by himself now. Grandpa inside had this brute force and an iron man’s will. Truly the single thing able to kill him was loss of his true love.

Dear one, I wish I could. C.I., how could I not have met Grandma, the woman you felt so much towards that you left for her, C.I.? Wish I was able to—here, now—understand why you left.