Negative Space

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1

My dad taught me how to pack.

Put everything out.

Half is enough.

Roll what you can roll.

Things that wrinkle lay on

things made of cotton.

For the trousers: Waistband on hem.

The stockings come in the corners and gaps.

Lay the belts like snakes

around the edge.

On top of that comes plastic.

Then the shoes.

You put on the heavy things.

We started when I was little

I rolled up the stockings.

Then.

Then he put me in the suitcase.

Most come closer to their fathers

when they shoot hoops together.

Or talk about cars.

We packed suitcases together.

At the age of 12,

I was allowed to pack for my father.

My mother had no knack for it.

He went on a business trip.

Opened the suitcase.

And always wrote me a message.

Perfect.

That one word from him

meant a lot to me.

The funeral was terrible.

My father was in this big box.

And I thought:

So much wasted space

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