Yonder

We lived out on the farthest sprawl of suburbia back then. Built on the plains of Colorado were grids of houses painted teal or beige or gray or mauve with two windows peeking over a garage. The houses always looked to me like they were saying, “Oh, shit.” My dad was 6’ 4” and gnarly of hand. After my brother was born three months premature, he got a sketchbook that he worked in with sticks of charcoal to draw fences, sleeping dogs, young trees. He made an expression when he was sketching that suggested he was trawling deep within himself.