for Ron and Pam Simpson
I
Dad’s new car was that Ford Customlinewide as a bed and hissing with energy.We’ll drive carefully, we promisedand took turns to burn up the bitumenright the way to Helidon.It never hissed after that. It sighed.Sometimes guilt takes fifty yearsbefore the blister breaks.The Ford was traded in after only four years.Dad’s silence was the rub.
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