Hands, and Mother’s Milk

Hands, and Mother’s Milk

I was excited the first time I held her hand.  She took my hand in hers when I reached out.  Encouraging.  It was, after dinner I think, that I held her hand.  It took a few tries to get a date, but when I did, it was for dinner, a dinner invitation–I would cook...
Did you?

Did you?

Can you recall a time, standing at the rain-streaked window, when you begged to go outside?  Had it really been three days?  Did you promise to put on your yellow rain slicker and not to get muddy?  Did it continue to pour prairie rain down against the window as it...
Corinthian Leather, Carnauba Wax

Corinthian Leather, Carnauba Wax

A slushy puddle of memory splashes me in the face when I slide in beside Dad to drive his favorite Lincoln, and I find myself sitting in a darkened hot August 1970’s living room, somewhere in downtown Toronto.       The brocade curtains pulled tightly closed...
The Barn

The Barn

Bill walked so darn fast to the barn I could barely keep up to him.  His head bent to one side, he walked with one arm straight, the other swinging in marching time to his stiff legs.   I suspect that one arm straight was the one he carried the pail with, pails of...
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