I Remember Everything, Ma?

The street outside their apartment is loud, the way city streets tend to be. The sound grifts in through the open windows of their front room and she lets it fill up the space he left behind. When he comes home, he shuts the windows and says he is tired of loud noises. He tells her he has been looking forward to the silence of home. Her short term memory is getting worse. She forgets where she puts things. I was afraid my mother was not made of salt.