To be Grown is to be Growing
Despite years of having arthritis, Maribeth’s chopping skills had only improved with age — which amazed her due to her struggling to fit a thread into the eye of a sewing needle nowadays .
Dream’s Pat(c)way
The gentle scent of lavender runs through my hair. Wind reminds me of her presence. She does this often, just as I am ready to leave.
An Inheritance
The first day she arrived home, it was remarkably a sunny morning. It was a resentful kind of sun though, a rancorous one that threatens to steal your skin for kindling. She squinted towards the screaming sky, eyes shielded. Her mother would’ve hated this heat, which is to say, she taught herself to love it.
Roots And Rituals — Our Sacred Family Garden
We used to have this big, cherished backyard at our old house. My mom and dad could just barely afford it, but they wanted my brothers and I to have somewhere safe to play that wasn’t in the street or at the giant ‘Christmas tree’ down the street.
Prosper’s Flowerpot
A bright brown house crammed in against a series of colorful copies. Prosper was told that this would be her new home. This blank room that she was supposed to share with her older sister, Grace, felt far from it.
