When I was little, my grandmother kept the moon in a glass on her bedside table. She kept her teeth in another glass right next to it.
I found her waiting for me at the table when I got there. I hung up my coat and had, and went to join her. “Oh, it’s good to see you…” I half-whispered. But she didn’t answer. She was wearing a green dress that flattered her curves in all the right ways, and I couldn’t […]
Parched. She could no longer remember a time when she was not parched, when her roots did not dig so far into the earth that they nearly breached its molten core. Sometimes she had flashes of memories of being supple of limb and well-coiffed with lively green leaves. But those recollections were dusty like the […]
