It was January, but not cold enough for coats. My shoulders were bare, I think; or, maybe they weren’t. But, the wind, I know the wind was blowing because I remember it stopping, as if in deference to us both. Continue reading
Tag Archives: creative non-fiction
Day 36 of 35
Brother At four you were fascinated with the length of my adolescent blonde hair, how I piled it high at the top of my head. You would climb into my arms, twist it, and say, “doorknob,” as if you could open me and crawl right in. When I put you down, you would settle for … Continue reading
Untempered Glass 