father never bothered to fix the leaky faucet 
// why fix things that eventually come undone mija? 
so it 
dripped 
and 
dripped 
and 
dripped 
and 
creaked 
and 
creaked 
and 
creaked… 

…until one day I come back and it is gone. new tenants who moved in had brought with them a new faucet, one not leaky or unbearably loud. I stood amidst condolences and a newfound silence. the kind that can be found under stands of bursting cattails. I suddenly realized that my lonely father had lived through the drips and the creaks and the presence of all those who were there before him, who had stood before the faucet turning it on and off and on and off, washing soft-bellied grapes to churn into jam, brewing hot chamomile tea for the arrival of winter, who had worn out that shiny new faucet with their hands and given it life. 

(Previously published in Jardin Zine.)