What Are You Seeing When You Are Seen?

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

by Keith Hood

The airplane broke the ocean’s surface with a barely noticeable splash and barreled through water as it had flown through clouds. Parrot fish, clown fish and sting rays swam past my window. Beyond that, the scene changed from brightly colored aquatic life to a brightly colored shopping mall where my wife walked hand in hand with our granddaughters. I floated from the plane and entered the mall, calling my wife’s name, touching her shoulder, mouthing “I’m here.” She did not acknowledge my presence, but turned toward Anya, our youngest granddaughter. Finally, fear embraced my heart when she said, “Hello grandpa.” 


Keith Hood is a former janitor, window cleaner, and field technician for a Michigan electric utility. His work has appeared in over seventeen literary journals.


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