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The Slipping Season

It’s been a very subtle thing, since around Christmas time of last year. This feeling, this slow knowing that things were starting to slip. Intangible, largely indescribable things. Inside, Outside. After my grandmother’s funeral last winter, my father pointed out that one of my eyes… Read More

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Wave

Lila lives mid-sentence. In her brain, words rise like the tide, whirling into waves, until she catches a glimpse of me, walking by to fill a glass of water and she says, “oh, and, Mama, I think…” and the words wash over me. It’ll be… Read More