My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge

The dirty water had seeped halfway up the cardboard cover.

I stretched my right arm down into the trench as far as it would go.

My fingertips brushed the edge of the blue cover, just missing it.

I lowered myself all the way onto my stomach and pressed my only good black dress into the wet clay.

The cold moisture soaked through the thin fabric immediately.

I dug my bare left hand into the mud wall to steady myself so I wouldn’t slide in.

The freezing cemetery dirt packed under my fingernails and stained my hands dark brown.