Rewind, circa 1968

My grandfather presses to have me “taken care of”

as I sit stubbornly in his teenage daughter’s womb

a wild weed threatening all her

beautiful promise.

Two people beside each other. Only their torsos, arms, and faces are depicted. The person on the right has their arm around the other person’s shoulders. The person on the right wears a long-sleeve shirt and has dark short hair styled to stand up in a coif. The person on the left wears a button-up shirt and has light hair that falls in waves past their shoulders.

Grandfather knows what to do:

a quick trip to Mexico,

a brief procedure

and all will be

fixed

dealt with.

I will be nothing.

But Mom refuses.

Calls off the contract hit

makes a husband of the

handsome lout

who knocked her up. My dad.

Barely twenty

but so very in love as he

moves us 400 miles deep into Pennsylvania,

away from New York

and from everyone’s

bright and shining dreams

for her.

Two rectangular road signs. The one on the left reads ‘West San Francisco 2516 miles’ with an arrow pointing to the left. The one on the right reads ‘East New York 387 Miles’ with an arrow pointing to the right. Both have a shield symbol with ‘Interstate 80’ written inside.