We pull up next to AZ, my grandparents’ old farm store. The windows are broken, the first floor mostly hidden by overgrown bushes. I can…
Autumn
Dark mornings, the early light weakened and muffled by clouds. My son says his fourth name is Autumn. Packing lunches and backpacks, jackets and early…
Loss
The thunder wakes me on the day of your funeral. It is the kind of thunder that shakes the house, the kind of lightning you…
Early Night
In order to see my husband—to really spend time with him, I have to stay up past my bedtime. I have always put my daughter…
These Days
There are days when I wake and the countdown to bedtime begins. There are days when even the garden can’t help me, can’t silence my…
Thirty-Five
I have always looked young. Growing up I was the shortest in my class and people thought my younger sisters were older than me. As…
Dear J.M.
We’ve never met, but I went to your funeral. I was twenty-one and my husband and I were still dating. It was a cold February…
Instability
In the Language of Flowers dahlias can represent instability. It’s what I’ve felt for most of the growing season. I’ve found myself avoiding the garden…
Wind Chimes
The wind chimes in my garden are above the roses and every time I hear them I think of my husband’s maternal grandma. They were…
No More Laundry On the Chair
There’s no more laundry on the chair but there are dishes in the sink. And on the counter. And on the dining room table from…