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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “At the Zoo” Down in the Dirt v210 (8/23)  Order the paperback book: 
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At the Zoo
Gil Hoy
It was late in the afternoon in late October.
I was at the zoo with my ten-year old son.
We went there most weekends. I’d been going there since I was a small boy. My son was staring at the elephants, the largest land mammals on earth. One of the three was particularly massive. He had a huge head, large ears, and a long trunk that was sucking up drinking water from a large container.
I remember my cell phone rang. It was my sister, Mary. The doctors had just told her Mother’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. She wasn’t expected to make it through the night. I knew Mother was sick, but I didn’t realize just how sick. Mary asked me to call her.
I didn’t call Mother as often as I should have. She lived far away, so I wasn’t able to visit her much. By the time Mary called, it was too late. I decided to call her later that day. Mary was asking me if I could come to New York for the funeral. I said I would try. I’d been working a lot of overtime. I’d lost my better-paying job to a younger employee the prior month, but they’d kept me on in a lesser role. I wondered for how long. There had been a lot of layoffs and firings as of late.
The three elephants were traipsing about. The massive one seemed to be frightened by something. And then he was trumpeting. Air pushed forcefully through his trunk. My son jumped when he heard the blast. I was more accustomed to it. I put my hands on my son’s shoulders to steady him.
Mary couldn’t stop crying. She and Mother were particularly close. And then I was crying. I decided to buy a coach ticket and go to New York for the funeral. I’d stay for a day. My son asked me, “Why are you crying, Dad?” I told him his grandmother was very ill.
I called twice and finally got through. Talk to a person who’s dying. I still don’t know how to do it. Mother said she knew she was dying. And that she understood I’d called to say goodbye. Everything I thought to say seemed trivial and uncaring. So I said that I loved her. That Sally loved her. That her grandchildren loved her. Mother started to speak. She told me to be a good father. But soon I couldn’t understand what she was saying. Her words were slurred and her sentences weren’t making much sense. And then the nurse got on the phone. She said Mother couldn’t talk any more. That she was exhausted and needed to rest.
The massive elephant began to trumpet again. The blare rang in my ears. What was frightening him? My son asked me, “Can we go home now?” I guess I was no longer good company, even for my son. It was getting dark outside. A strong, cold wind was blowing. It was supposed to be warmer. I wished I’d brought my son’s winter coat. The windbreaker he was wearing was way too thin.
The male elephant was quieting down. A female was batting around a beach ball with her trunk. A baby elephant was crying. Was the baby cold? The massive male and large female caressed and stroked the baby with their trunks. Were they a family?
I took my son’s small hand in my hand. We started to walk towards the exit. The zoo would be closed soon. Nearly everyone else had already left. By the time we got to the exit, the zoo was deathly quiet. How did it get so late so soon? As we were leaving, I heard the faint trumpeting sound of a frightened elephant in the distance.
