The
Return
From Prosthetic Amalgams
by
Kenny A. Chaffin
All Rights
Reserved © 2014 Kenny A. Chaffin
When I got up that morning and stumbled my
way to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee he was waiting for me. Sitting at
the kitchen table, back to the wall, he nodded. Rather than shock at a stranger
in my home it was as if I had been expecting him though he’d been dead for over
twenty years. I nodded my head, “Morning Daddy.”
“Coffee?” I asked as I filled my cup even though
I’d never know him to drink coffee in his life. He shook his head and when he
did I saw the crescent-shaped scar above his ear in his close-cropped hair –
the one he’d gotten when a horse had kicked him as a boy.
“How’s the grandkids?” he asked. I
shrugged, “Well as can be expected I suppose.” “Good,” he said. Silence filled
the room. “Well I guess I best be goin’.” I nodded. He pushed his chair back
and stood which is when I noticed he had his legs, he was whole, able-bodied.
He stepped towards the front door and then turned back. “You remember that mean
ol’ boar we had, the one that gored you?
“Daddy how could I forget, I’ve still got
the scars.”
He nodded. “He’s up there.”
