it’s too cold to move. I long for the beach, to feel real sand between my toes. not playground sand, but white sand that feels like flour. I want the warm sun on my shoulders. last night, my youngest put lotion on my back, to help cure the dry skin that plagues me every winter. […]Read more "freckles"
they march on. up and down. banging drums along the rails. the pitter-patter of little feet somewhere along the dirty path became dinosaur stomps. a shrill scream. a loud thud. a broken piece of plastic sticks up from the carpet. there’s a ring, still wet on the dining room table. the clock ticks toward the moment […]Read more "around here"