Claire was coming over with her boyfriend—her partner—and Joan was baking mince pies in preparation, though she couldn’t remember whether Claire liked mince pies. It was difficult to keep everything straight with four children who changed their [...]
Now that I’m dead too, just like the living dead on TV, fat chance that the merely living will be saved by doing what they did when I was merely living— nailing their doors shut against me, hurricane-proofing the windows, positioning snipers at the embrasures.
Walking into the smell of old wounds, something about my grandmother’s bedroom always kept me from there—the perfume once animal golden now rancid & dark as whiskey. Lace- medallioned, doilies marking time turned to loss
After your father gets lost for the third time, you get angry because he won’t answer his phone. Part of me wants him to stay lost. God, what has stolen my generosity?
I had driven to Nashua to look for farmhouses. I was researching abandoned farmhouses and wanted to find a part of New Hampshire with both rural and urban poverty.
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