I pick up the crumpled note to my mother and unfold it. I used to write letters to her all the time when Benji was a baby.
They would’ve worn silk kimonos if they were older. Instead, they wear barrettes, the color of pearl, the silver clasps cleaned with toothpaste by Jun’s mother…
I pull off my shoes, sliding my feet through the sand as I make my way to the water’s edge, where I stand very still, trying to decide which way to go.
Stacey Hohman McClain
My mother always comes home from work late, but this summer she’s been coming home even later.
She sludged through her waking hours, a once-award-winning architect now walking in a blind haze through the aisles of Target, impressed with herself on the days she didn’t put her underwear on inside out.
Always have a long-term project and do a little each chance you get. Make sure it takes years, he admonished my sister and me. A project you never think you’ll finish.
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