Autumn Day by Andrew Crimmins I sit behind the wheel in my white truck autumn sun glinting off the hood. Pull the Zippo lighter out of my pocket, given once as a gift by my father. The light catches on the silver case, the emblem bearing his military unit stares back at me from within my hand. Smoke hangs lazily in the air. I relight the joint I share with my best friend seated next to me. In the back, two marble boxes, hold the ashen remains of my parents. They are seated together in death, just like they walked hand in hand in life. The torch has been passed for me to carry, and bear the burden of leading my family. We finish the joint as we pull into the cemetery. My friend leans over, a strange look on his face, This is the first time I’ve rode in the car with both your parents. We share a look and laugh hysterically. 86 theMeadow
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