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Gillian and Me

Gillian and Me

We were winsome, a little different than the others, often off on our own, always looking in. I admired her, her poetic way of seeing the world, and her beige suede boots. She was smart, made pen drawings, played classical guitar, wrote poetry. She gave me the boots....
No Turning Back

No Turning Back

It’s been ten years today since my mom’s passing. She loved Morning Buns so I bought one yesterday to have for breakfast this morning. They’re big, Todd and I share. You can peel off the layers one at a time. Fannie was begging for some. I told Todd to give her the...
When Lightning Strikes

When Lightning Strikes

We woke with a chunk of the neighbor’s tree on our roof— two branches the size of two trees, limbs like trunks, snapped off, split, dead. No more leaves from these two. That tree, the size of our house times two, has been a looming accident waiting to happen. The...
Small Things

Small Things

3:00 am. The earlier you wake the bigger the day. Moments passing. I try to catch them—like the first family gathering in over a year—and put them somewhere safe. The chairs were full but some places were empty. Those people I brought to the table inside me. The...
Follow the Beauty

Follow the Beauty

We’re in the process of clearing things out of our well-lived-in, comfy old house—21 years for the two of us, 32 years for my parents before us, 10 of those with me there too. It’s the ol’ family home. It’s a ton of stuff! While it’s a project in and of itself for...

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