What I remember,
When I remember,
Becomes intensely urgent.
What I remember,
When I remember,
Becomes intensely urgent.
I was ten when Lucy and her family moved in next door. It was winter and although I had seen her, we hadn't really been able to play together. She went to public school where my father was a teacher and I went to St. Augustine’s, the Catholic parish school. We didn't get together until summer. I asked her to take a walk. I always walked then; in the summer I often walked ten miles or so a day. Our street was a dead-end and stopped two doors up with the McKay's house. It was quiet and there were woods and empty fields nearby. I wandered everywhere unafraid. Lucy's mother, Marta D'Angelo, wouldn't allow Lucy to walk in the woods or the fields unless an adult was present. My parents didn't care. The only rules were that I should be home for meals, do all my homework and help around the house when asked.
Rikki’s alive. He must be. The morning after I gave up and took down the signs, Petwatch, the microchip company, called to say he had been turned in to the Buncombe County Humane Society. Maybe he really was on someone’s...
There’s a crunching sound in the kitchen and that means Rikki is eating his breakfast. I’m delighted. My entire being has been willing that little guy to eat. He’s weighing in at around five pounds again and that’s the weight …
As I climb into bed, I notice the bedclothes have a slight odor of oranges—the fruity smell of ketoacidosis, the scent of diabetes out of control. Mom has slept here recently. Why? A fight? I don’t know and don’t want …
What if I stood at the crest of a hill, A soft hill that descended like a slide, And what if The top of the hill was a plateau And a tree Not big but perfectly shaped With a rounded …
This is the first chapter of a memoir covering my mother’s death and two years I spent in Burma. The year is 1969. Chapter 1, Coming Home Bangkok. It is the smell of it that differentiates it from other Asian …
Mattie arrives unannounced wearing dark glasses, her hair in a motley tangle. Shivering, her arms curled inward, she digs in her nails into her flesh leaving an angry hatch work of red on her skin. “What?” asks Chloe, startled, but …