The Weight of Departure
September 30, 2019Essay by Eric Stinton
I could move in any direction or be motionless, disconnected from everything—my life back in Korea, my plans to move home.
I could move in any direction or be motionless, disconnected from everything—my life back in Korea, my plans to move home.
I turned to the only francophone music I could find in northern Illinois: the early Canadian albums of Céline Dion.
When I awake with no desire to rush for a pen, it’s hard to see the value in what is happening.
I don’t know why I think of her now, standing at the cliff’s edge, nothing before me but water.
Everyone else in my family would remember me when I was gone. But not him.
That spring, still lamenting the loss of sidewalks, my daughter would barely leave the house without me by her side.
My decomposing body might be inspiration for whole tribes of thankful creatures in the soil.