Not Different

By: Lynette R. Larson

As we go to Arizona, I smell the sweetness of lavender thinking back as I walk into the institution

When we had a cookout with the entire family and my dad butchering the sheep

 

When we walk in we are called

We take off our shoes, empty out pockets

Leaving my phone in the car

Or the metal detector will yell at us until we go back

 

We go down the concrete sidewalk

The officers are soldiers when they open the door

We wait for my dad

My dad is like a hyacinth when the sun hits it in the morning

He comes out with glasses,

A uniform with his name on it,

Black hair, brown eyes, and

He’s taller than me

 

As we talk I look at my dad and realize what he dreams for

All I could say is….

He wants to come home

Not different…