I am standing in my Grandmother Martin’s kitchen. It’s true: Grandmama died nearly 14 years ago and her kitchen was dismantled long before that, but I’m telling you, this is her kitchen. Her resin dishes lay on the Formica table ready for supper—though I remember them being a pale pink, not this mint green. The [...]
Here’s a conversation Margaret and I had on the way home from school one day last week. I thought you might enjoy eavesdropping. (I’ve changed names and identifying details of all other kids mentioned—well, except for Charlie who is indeed a kid in his own mind . . . and I suppose in ours too. [...]
I’ve been in a poetry mood of late and this too was written as a poem. Yet for some reason the formatting did not transfer here. Go figure. I could spend an hour more trying to figure it out. . .but I’m just not going to this time. If you really just have to see [...]