Written by Dania Akkawi 

“Until the jar was now empty.”

“What Age Does”

in the two years, five months, and 48 hours since

we walked through these doors. And



that the dinner she spoke of

was not ready.


The plates were there,

but the forks and knives in

different drawers.


Something was wrong.

She was quiet,

almost passive.


That was not the norm.

We had just come home

from years abroad.


It was the beginning

of decline and a sign

that she needed us.


Having relied on her,

stealing whatever was inside the cookie jar before lunch,

and then again before dinner.


Until the jar was now empty.

Now, we fill it


Same recipe. Foreign taste.


She sits in her armchair

at the far end of the room. Old and new,

all at once.