You get out of the car, race across the grass of the front lawn, slick with dew, shimmering in the dark, and throw yourself into her arms, ask her, How long have you known?
mom is trying to handle it maturely, but is very disappointed
You get out of the car, race across the grass of the front lawn, slick with dew, shimmering in the dark, and throw yourself into her arms, ask her, How long have you known?
mom is trying to handle it maturely, but is very disappointed
The store’s neon sign blazes a deep, rich red in the night
red can symbolize blood, lust, something mysterious
pale pink robe, barefoot, hobbling
describing the unknown person that is with the dad
You’re grown when you pull back into the driveway at the house
almost grown - in the beginning, grown in the end of the story
crooked in the unmarked
something doesn't look right
he bunions at the sides of her feet bulbous like moons of some long-forgotten planet, her silhouette swaying in the porchlight.
compares the sides of the foot to moons of a planet, so it's comparing a person to mysterious things
wall-mounted wooden “F” by the front door. It stands for family, Dad had said, the longest middle hairs of his mustache curling over his lips into his mouth.
the dad isn't giving off any attention to his wife and children
It’s the first time you see — really, truly see — the bags under her eyes
the author puts the reader in a "vulnerable state" and expresses how exhausted the mom looks, and how she's doing everything
in that plain-as-day, unwrapped box, the corners pressed and pushed and bent.
has been opened and used- may be old and rusty
the aversion of her eyes, start to feel like she knows something you don’t
she starts to question things in her head, may be foreshadowing something later in the story
her head’s down, her face obscured by the steam of the mint pulao from the cooker
may be tired, exhausted / has a lot to do as a mother bc the dad is always "busy"
twenty-four ounce Cherry Coke bottles
symbolic, shows what the dad is in charge of as a job
You’re almost grown when you realize it’s an odd hour for Dad to head back to the store
relating it to us