Dad was running late. I come home from school alone- My dogs howling excitedly like wolves on a full moon. The smell of afternoon coffee The softness of cozy pajamas The sound of my favorite show. I hear the door open- Mom, unusually early. Her face overcome with sorrow. Distraught, she reluctantly tells the news. Nana had died. Her words were wasps piercing through my heart. Initial shock leads to a warm embrace Contrasting with a waterfall of cold, wet tears. It soon became obvious that dad was not running late. Instead, driving 4 long, painful, seemingly endless hours To tell my brother the news.