The bright red Mickey Mouse socks my kids gave me before the pandemic were now going pink and faded with holes opening at the heels. These socks, like so many things in my life, held small resonance. They meant something… Read More ›
The butcher’s knife slipped off the edge of an onion and into my fingertip and somehow just the idea of my blood on the cutting board seemed to freak everyone out, for fear I was infected.
How the days unfurled unexpected and just hung there in the light.