The street lights reflecting in the wet asphalt and leaves cannot penetrate the deeper shadows beside the foot-path. We walk in silence as I think of my childhood, both my father and mother are dead while tomorrow me and my sister are going to sell our childhood home. No one has lived there since our mother moved to the nursery home, but that does not mean that it’s empty. We have memories to care for… not just us, but past generations live in that house. I wonder how to take care of my past. On Saturday I will go and put flowers on the grave of my parents.
a blanket of leaves
summer memories slumber —
this dismal drizzle
Today we write haibun about the season of Halloween with Frank at dVerse, It has really grown dark and rainy here in Stockholm. Now I need to go down to Gothenburg to clear out the house of my parents.
October 26, 2020