Whites Arrival Hospital Light – AR101 Doctor’s Coat – AR102 Swaddle – AR103 Midnight Feed – AR104 Nonna’s Smile – AR105 First Year Burp Cloth – FY201 First Tooth […]
“Letting go is impossible, I have decided. You never really let go, you just accept that what you had is gone. There is a difference.”
The first time he saw her she was standing across Lexington Avenue next to a soot-streaked snowbank. She was wearing purple mittens and a purple hat and a thigh-length camel’s […]
In Hangzhou, 200 miles away, he had seen big, new buildings. Or were they buildings new, big. Or buildings that equal new and big.
Nightmare, a perfect baby using its tongue, tracing the squares of the bathroom in absolute quietude of deepest, unbabymonitorable night.
The teacher tries to remember what it was called before. Something visceral, something disturbing in a necessary way.
We drive through the town with sidewalks paved with clamshells, the town where turkey vultures tear the guts of bloated cattle, the town of shrines to the dead, bristling with roadside crosses. This is our lesson: we must keep moving.
Granddad’s a storyteller. Example: as a young Navy officer, he survived a ship wreck. He clung to life in a tiny raft by drinking his own pee and punching sharks in the face.
I must have heard the sirens, the entire town erupting in wailing chaos, but we never assume the emergency has anything to do with us.
“The Jennys were disappointed in each other. Each seemed to be wasting an opportunity the other was sure she would’ve made more of.”