a craving for snap peas drove me back to haymarket again this afternoon. the sky was all sorts of weird: in the north puffy white rain clouds, while in the south a thick fog was swallowing up the city. i stashed my bike at a visitor's parking spot on north street. afterwards i made my way through the north end, to copps hill cemetery, to take some photos. that's when my mother called me. she said my father was in a cooking accident, scalded his hand with hot oil, and had to go to the emergency room. she told me to return home.

on the outskirts of harvard square i pulled over to answer the phone once again after the constant buzzing in my pocket. my mother told me i didn't have to come back after all since my aunt and uncle were with my father at the hospital.

i went to the cafe anyway, where my mother reenacted what happened that led to my father getting burned by hot cooking oil. i went to belmont, where i gave hailey a bath (my sister had come back with her after being out in the forest and was helping my mother at the cafe so she couldn't wash the dog). i also watered the vegetables, did a load of laundry, and washed the dirty dishes in the sink. i watched the non-stop all-weekend-long michael jackson tribute on the various music channels. rewatching we are the world gave me goosebumps (the first time i saw it was in 1985 in 5th grade in the school's library; it as a special treat). one question though: is it just my imagination or is dan aykroyd amongst the crowd of all-star singers? i left when my sister came back home.

i saw my father at the cafe. he suffered 2nd degree burns on the back of his right hand, now wrapped up in gauze and bandages. the skin had peeled off, leaving the denuded pink flesh beneath. it could've been worse, could've been 3rd degrees burns with muscle and nerve damage (but it wasn't). once the new skin grows in, the hand should be back to normal - but i wonder if he'll have a scar on it the rest of his life.