In Loving Memory
The auto pulled up in front of a small provision shop. The quiet of the dawn was broken by the rumbling of the engine as it halted. The light was on in the shop, casting a bright glow in the otherwise dimly lit street. Colorful bags of Lays Chips were hanging, lazily waving in the morning breeze. Next to the shop, small but lively houses were lined up in two rows, forming almost a tunnel like appearance. Calling the space between the houses a road, would be too kind. The narrow strip hardly gave space for two people to walk side by side, yet large motorbikes stood parked precariously against the walls connecting the houses. Every house had one step under which a small groove was carved in to let excess water flow and drain. The steps themselves were decorated with intricate patterns painstakingly drawn in the morning light. Climbing out of the auto, the driver helped my father with the suitcases. Jammed in the middle of my carryon and my mother, I climbed out, eager to stre...