“contemporary re-imagining” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Thursday September 15, 2016
5 minutes
From an email from PTC

“It’s okay,” says Papa, chopping onions. He doesn’t cry, stoically bringing his knife down in perfectly straight lines.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sniffling.

“It’s just a truck, sweetie,” Papa pours the onions in the pan and glugs on oil and throws in a knob of butter, too.

“It was so scary,” I stand up and walk close. He reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I flipped my Papa’s truck into a ditch the first snowstorm of ’69?”


He stirs the onions, some starting to become translucent.