It seems to her that humans have only one spring, one summer, one fall, and if they’re lucky — or not, depending on your perspective — one winter.

It seems to her that humans have only one spring, one summer, one fall, and if they’re lucky — or not, depending on your perspective — one winter.
One hundred and twenty hours after my mother took her last breath, we gathered around a deep hole and covered her casket in roses.
The water shimmers baby blue beneath a blushing pink sky and it seems Bob and I are the only people on earth.
“How long do you want to live?” Bob asks over a steaming bowl of fried cabbage