A telescope was left in my father’s study. Instead of having pointed it to the sky, he had it pointed out to the bay in front of our home. Had he hoped to look across the Pacific to catch a glimpse of the island where we emigrated from?

I peered into it, from time to time. Separated by the atmospherical element and the lens’s intrinsic chromatic abrasion, the parallel universe strangely matched my emotional landscape during a time of my prolonged recovery that also coincided with COVID pandemic isolation.  

Did my father see what I saw? 

Perhaps he just wanted to go fishing.