Dad retreats to the den while the chicken marinates, lights a stick of incense, and helps the dog get a bone out of the basket.
In the early morning before the sun comes up we sit in the dark with a candle and our coffees and ask how the other one slept. Letting the dog out and standing in the fog, hurrying back in beneath… Read More ›
It is a small but very precious part of me hanging in our front window.
Lily, born today and growing up in that little house in West Seattle behind the Sub Shop #9 and the corner bar we never once visited, Chuck and Sally’s.
And I wondered what it thought of all this ornamentation and this fuss: this cruel ending.