The last showers before the bone- dry season. In the mornings I shook spiders off clean plates and watched wasps build a dome under the table. The table set for two more. My parents crossed a hemisphere to see us. Love took flight, love suspended in a white bird. I introduced them to the egrets and the monkeys. My father walked red roads with a carrot to feed the thin horse. Naked Neck ate corn from my mother’s hand. All of us fed and full. The brilliant awkwardness of blending families who don’t speak the same language. If you ask me to translate I will show you how a bridge can fail. But on the other side of all that water and earth you will see our laughter crest, then curl. You will watch it break.