After the right kind of storm, we would load up and drive down to the cat streets: Lion, Puma, Ocelot Avenue. Aunt Hyacinth would buy my cousins and I cherry limeades, our orders gliding across damp cement by shaken teens on roller skates. Then…
It’s our first day together since the divorce, my daughter and me, and I’m picking her up for a visit. A new kind of dad now. I don’t wake up with her in the other room. I don’t make her eggs with toast buttered…
Your body is an unlikely bed, furrowed and dry as a sun-sucked plain. You’ll need some tending, but I’m sure the garden will take. In the end, most things do. I’ll plant perennials, some succulents and a flowering shrub, purple impatiens that bloom in…
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