Today I witnessed three squirrels keeping vigil, sitting beside a fallen comrade.
Today I witnessed three squirrels keeping vigil, sitting beside a fallen comrade.
Out of change, the cashier gave us a lottery ticket.
My husband answers the call while we’re washing dishes. Oh my God, I hear him say.
I’m four and pat the gold globe like it’s a puppy.
It was my job to set the table for supper. After a day of baby-minding as the family’s au pair, which was all new to me, this was a chore I knew how to do.
Congrats! First girl to get her man.
Salty hair, burnt cheeks, heavy legs. Lulled by the waves.
I sat on his bed while he zipped his duffle bag closed, light filtering through the blue shark curtains I’d sewn eighteen years ago.
Memories climbed the walls, looking down with curious eyes from corners and cabinet tops.
My son leans into me, his hot body a hot brick against mine.
I inhaled sharply as the surgeon entered the room.
He's not doing great, but at ninety-one he's had an adventurous life.
I can’t see the needles jabbing the side of my neck, my periphery shielded by a crinkly paper sheet.
Abuela brings the pot out from her mobile home. It’s heavy with the weight of the seed pods from the ebony tree on our lot.
The summer my teacher didn’t kiss me was set to a soundtrack of show tunes and The Shins, the whisper of smoke in my ears as he taught me how to breathe it.
Scrambling out of bed I race down the hallway, bare feet slapping on the boards.
My almost-two-year-old doesn’t talk. “It’s not worrisome yet,” the doctor says.
Standing between her mother’s legs, I cradled this tiny baby, still floating in her sac.
Recognizing the customer as a classmate’s father, I welcome him more amicably than I otherwise might.
“Daddy’s home!” I cheered as I skipped along the deck of our pool to give him a hug.