How we escaped the American Dream and moved to Belize twenty-five years ago.
Once upon a time, there was an imperfect family which—like millions of other imperfect families—produced an imperfect child.
We hear the outside world from inside our mothers’ wombs, while sleeping, and after all other senses have lost their grip, we hear from our deathbeds.
The pictures on our bedroom wall each contain at least one memory—a captured spirit or ghost, if you will.
I wrote this post in 2016 and Sheri McGregor put it in an anthology, a kind of “Chicken Soup for the Soul” for nature freaks. The essay would belong to Sowing Creek Press for a year following publication after which I could do anything I wanted with it, such as post it here on Plastic […]