Her Name First
Holding the branch against the winter wind
The news of my aunt’s passing landed like snow on a bare branch. Forty years of distance, estrangement, and unanswered questions made the spaces she left behind feel vast.
So I did what I always do: I sharpened a pencil, grabbed a sheet of paper, and began.
empty picture frames
I sharpen my pencil and
write down her name first
©2026 Patrick Norberto