Early morning walks when the light is coming on, the sky peach and the mountains blue. A morning like this your dad calls to say he has cancer: not the kind to really worry about but still, “cancer.” He’s trying… Read More ›
I walked eight miles and didn’t see another soul. Another hundred and I’d cross the Oregon border. I got to the lake, cleared a ledge of snow off by a small stand of trees and pulled out my tent, moving fast to stake it out.
We can curl up with our cats and blankets and books and reheat yesterday’s soup.