Posted on December 5, 2023 by Wife of Devoted Packer Fan / 3 Comments I’ve been making sugar cookies for my husband Bob since I was a seventeen-year-old blushing bride, pregnant with what would have been our first child. I… Continue Reading
Sally had been marching up and down this steep hill every day since finishing work. Her route started and ended at the holy well. An ancient stone structure with a black caged roof, fronted by a cracked drinking fountain and… Continue Reading
It’s hot and humid on the last day of August. It’s even hotter inside the small dance hall in Santa Rosa de Aguan, the village on a peninsula bordered by the Atlantic Ocean on the front side and the Aguan… Continue Reading
The thing about dipping a headless chicken in a vat of boiling water is you have to get the temperature just right. Too cold and the feathers won’t come off; too hot and the skin starts to peel. You sort… Continue Reading
“Dad? Can you hear me? Do you know if he can hear us?” “I always say to my patients’ families: assume they can. Even if it doesn’t register so well, assume there’s a comfort in hearing your loved ones.” It… Continue Reading
From the closet, I remove the wedding dress my mother made for me thirty years ago. I wanted a form-fitting bodice flaring into a three-tiered ruffled skirt. She sewed a basic bell-shaped gown. You slip into the dress. I zip… Continue Reading
May was holding her mother’s hand and then she wasn’t. The moment May removed her mitten to reach for a cookie in her pocket, they slipped away from each other like water slips through fingers. They had been watching the… Continue Reading
I watched her every morning while I cooked. That woman in the red saree. She was the proud owner of two sarees … both red … one with yellow polka dots and the other with a green border. I knew… Continue Reading
Ruffles knew something was wrong, something below her left armpit. It showed itself in the scent of her sweat, a sort of asymmetry in the chemical shape of her body. How could he tell her? He barked and growled at… Continue Reading
That was what they called him, anyway; those few neighbors who lived a mile away from his hermitage. The hermitage was one of those corrugated iron bomb shelters, semicircular and stifling. He had sat on top of it for five… Continue Reading