Father and brother are here to visit. One toothless, the other one emptily reflective. We walk the streets and say little. We have a couple of beers, share a joke or two. I find myself startled at my mother’s absence. It’s been ten years now since she passed but it still makes a difference, it still spans a fathomless gap. As if they have left her home, all alone. As if she sent them here, as if she’s busy making bitter cherry jam. Contained hectic, shrouded sweat, secretly bustling with things to do.