The Yellow Hibiscus

We alighted from Willoby’s vehicle and headed toward the charred remains of what was left of my parents’ home. Pungent charcoal smells filled our nostrils and we began coughing from the residual fumes of the fire debris. The tidy narrow walkway, leading to the steps of the entrance door, was now strewn with ashy gravelly soot and boot-prints after boot-prints. The results of firemen trekking through the charred debris that had also ruined the small manicured lawn, to which Dad painstakingly tended.

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