What Happens to Our Numbers When We Die?
When I search for my father, I feel his numbers. Here’s a house number on my friend’s street that mimics the first few digits of my father’s phone. Here, at the 7/11, my receipt totals the amount of the last four digits of his SSN.
Annesha Mitha is an MFA candidate at the Helen Zell Writers' Program at the University of Michigan. Her work is published or forthcoming in The Kenyon Review Online , Tin House the Open Bar, and PEN America. She tweets sporadically @anneshamitha.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Annesha Mitha
Success!
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author Annesha Mitha
More by this author
Horror in the Vast Rooms of the Internet
We die differently now that we have each other at the tip of our fingertips. We live differently, too.
Ghosts Scattered Among the Stars and My Father’s Ashes in the Ganga
On space debris and a father's remains.
How to Survive a Disaster Movie: Be White. Speak English.
When Americans consume media that privileges white survival, what does it mean for which disasters earn our attention, our money, our likes, our grief?
More in this series
Finding Peace at the Rothko Chapel: What Local Arts Can Teach Us About Our Cities—and Ourselves
In Houston, as with everywhere else, the arts serve as tiny lifeboats—and sometimes, if we’re lucky, we all find ourselves floating together.
No, I Don’t Want Your Advice on How My Kids or I Can Be “Cured”
I’m not looking for a cure—not for my kids, and not for me. Any treatment we choose is merely a tool to help us enjoy our lives.
Carving Out a Vietnamese Identity in the New South
For Asians in the South and everywhere, there is still narrative scarcity.