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The light I saw flickering in my wife’s eyes as we sat at the little table we use for dinners that don’t involve watching reruns and the radiant golds that shimmered behind her, framing the face I love best after my own, Read the rest of this entry »
My mother draws her breath like a bad cartoon. No doctors can tell us what’s wrong with her, so we don’t let them see her. She was always busy living, proliferating. Read the rest of this entry »