Now, more than ever, I needed to go home to Mother.
“Here comes Nick,” I’d say, watching him work his way across the lawn in a slow, rolling gait.
I met Shirley and Ken Kenneally in 1981 when Cathi invited me to their home for a party. Although the house was set a good way in from the street, I could hear the music from the sidewalk.
Bob lifts Amy over his head and places her atop Jesse’s plush, winter coat. He makes sure she has one foot on either side of his spine before stepping away. She runs her baby-sized hands over the soft brown hair and leans in to breathe his smell as her dad hoists her older sister, Emily, […]
The first time I saw her she was standing idle at the curb, shining like Pegasus in a sea-colored cloak. She looked like freedom incarnate. It had been eight months since Bob and I sold our tattooed silver TDI Beetle and we were ready for a new set of wheels. We hadn’t needed a car […]