Brother Jim is fiddling change in his pocket. Clinkety-clink and over again. Stops sudden and embarrassed. Shifts himself back in his seat. Sister Beth took it hard, but not hardest. That would be Auntie Louise.
Sun going back in its skypocket, just like it does every night. Same way we thought of our Mama. Force of habit, someone might say.
Father out back in the earthdig. Like he’s planting begonias. Like it’s just another dog day of scratching up holes.
No one wants to be the first. First one to speak it, owns it. Brought it and gave it a name.
Nothing to be done but sit and sit. Perfect and still and waiting for nothing else to ever happen.