Tank looks skyward.

Tank visits his mother

Tank, backlit by the setting sun, hold his half-sandwich in hand.

Tank and I made a trip to one of the family cemeteries to visit the graves of his mother and father, among others. We stopped along the way to pick up a sandwich from Manny’s Tortas and a hot cocoa. We cleared the headstones with our hands, traced the names and years with our fingers, remarked on the growth of the nearby tree his family planted with the first (unexpected) burial they had there, and let the sun warm our backs. Tank was satisfied with the visit, despite the company.

Tank sits on the ground at the cemetery, one leg up.


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