I wrote this tanka prose on the 26th of November.

The tanka prose is based on my visit in September to the place where my father bought his first house. The house was in a most sought-after locale and I remember, dad, being very proud of it. I was around nine at the time and I remember the joy in my parent’s eyes when they performed the housewarming ceremony in the presence of the entire family. Dad sold the house a few years before he passed because he found it impossible to manage and he didn’t think it was worth keeping.

My father's home

Two years, after my father passed, I visited our first home- it was the only concrete way I knew of saying goodbye- to him, to what was mine once before I left my country.  I wanted my daughter to see the house that was my dad's pride and had given me a lot of happy memories. We sat in the café I visited as a little girl, and I ordered cold coffee and a chicken mayonnaise sandwich for each of us; just like the old days.  I wanted my daughter and my husband to get a taste of my childhood. 

the past came flooding
it flowed without a warning
choked my voice and broke
the dam I had built
the garçon thought it was the food.

We walked to the apartment block once we were done eating. We did not enter. There was no need- dad had sold the house a few years ago as it had been too difficult to maintain. I stood at the gate and took a picture for old times’ sake. 

I, a little girl
saw a couple full of dreams
radiant faces, young,
smiling; the world at their feet  
Another world, far away ; I blinked.

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