Mixed Drinks

by Prachi Jain

For years he sat near the family room window smoking cigarettes and strumming his guitar. "Practice makes a great musician," he would say. While Mom worked two jobs to pay the rent and to bring food to our table, dad would just play guitar and move his dirty knotted hair from side to side. Mom and I learned to leave him alone with his decaying human faculties and moved on with our lives, hanging on to our delightful relationship. We fared all right. Life was hard but there were moments of elation too, like you obtain from mixed drinks, and delight and decay survived together.

6S - C3

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