My father is home.
It has been a year, but he was finally released. He and my mother went out to celebrate with friends at their favorite haunt of Dunkin Donuts. He still must watch his weight, but he’ll allow himself the coffee, the donut, for the celebration of freedom. Diet and exercise are not enough to survive diabetes. You need friendship and joy, and coffee. Continue reading
Another two inches.
I pull the wrapper off the sugar-free chocolate again and toast the horizon and, somewhere, a small New England town.
I don’t say, “cheers.” In Japan you don’t say that for the sad things. Continue reading
My father was in the hospital again. He had told me before the first surgery, and neglected to mention the second until it was a go. Two toes gone and the doctors said they needed to chop the top off the rest. Why? Because the doctor said so. So that’s diabetes, I thought, Continue reading