When the Cranes Fly South

by Lisa Ridzén

No one has ever told me that it’s normal for a person’s eyes to well up as they age, for the tears to find a foothold in virtually every memory.

can almost always escape into sleep. It’s the place where everything is still as it should be, where I still have a say.

but my wheezing words don’t have much impact anymore. They drop like dead birds from the sky, landing in a place no one ever goes.