Nonfiction | September 01, 2008

The full text of this essay is not currently available online.

Don was perched on a big wet rock, and when he lost his footing, he was laughing. He’d turned to tell my father something, and he tumbled instead. He slid of f the rock, landed in the current and went over the falls. He was stil l laughing when he went over, and my father was screaming. . . .

If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.

SEE THE ISSUE

SUGGESTED CONTENT