A gaggle of geese return to our street each winter while migrating from one place to another. They arrive in January, around my husband’s birthday, and I am surprised to find them behind our house, honking like cab drivers in traffic. Most leave with babies but one pair can’t manage to have any; I’ve watched them sit for years on…
Over the years−whether by accident or by design−I have lost touch with multiple friends. For years it bothered me. Knowing that these people held slivers of my heart in their possession bothered me. Knowing that perhaps those pieces of me meant nothing to them bothered me. Knowing that perhaps I meant nothing to them bothered me. As a teenager and…
I walked past a house today that, just yesterday, was hit by lightning; it burned to the ground. I saw a black car parked in the drive, charred remains of a roof that once sheltered a family and a scattering of things and dreams. I couldn’t help myself from looking, from examining the evidence left behind, from asking the question,…
