Cracks are forming in the course mulch where sprigs of something are trying desperately to come up. The bulbs of spring are curious or maybe too eager to resist. It is a warm winter, after all. And the amount of rain is comparable to what used to be April’s responsibility—now May. The now wet and…
Tag: Life
The Work of a Rose
The work seems invisible now. But just yesterday, Mom called me on the phone. The news was bad: grandpa was in the hospital again. He’s strong, but it’s unlikely this time. For a year I watched over my grandpa’s farm. But Mom’s been showing up this whole time as one of the…
The Preciousness of Every Little Thing, Every Little Memory
My mom looked off for just a moment, as if some story had always been near to her and seemingly always there after all these years. As she recalled the events, the colors of the room went dull and her words became crisp and vivid. “There was that one time.” She started, as if every…
