Seven years old, in the bathroom at the Jersey shore, I had to use the one in my grandparent’s room and there was my grand-dad’s reflection in the bathroom mirror, through a crack in the door. He was napping with his hands folded on his chest, smiling.

I saw a stick of deodorant on the countertop by the sink and it said, “Sure.” I thought one day he’ll be dead and look like that at his funeral, and the deodorant agreed, it just said Sure.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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One Response to Sure

  1. alesiablogs says:

    So are you “sure” it happened that way? 7 yrs old and all ready thinking such thoughts…..intriguing post.


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