We ride the train through Mumbai
and I fall asleep. At Churchgate, my Father
and I sit and watch the sea.

I am seventeen and waiting to become.
The whole plane ride over, I flip
through glossy college catalogs

stare at the green expanse of campus
lawns and red gold maple leaves: a perfect
East Coast Fall. I am trying to imagine

my new life when I am returned
to the place of my parents’ birth. I tell
my Father that the beach in Mumbai

reminds me of Miami, where we drank
from coconuts through straws. In Miami,
my Father showed me how to cleave meat

from the coconut and we licked juice
from our palms. By the time I leave
for college, my Father will not speak to me.

Years later, when I call my Father
from New York, I will walk to the East River
and show him my view of the city. Through our phones

we will look at each other, and the estuary,
and maybe I will tell him how once, in college,
I tried to write down everything I knew of his life

and only filled a page.

Megan Pinto, “Seascapes with Father” from Saints of Little Faith. Copyright © 2024 by Megan Pinto. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books