How do you make a memory? Seriously. I want the formula. My memories and what I remember are separate universes. I can memorize pages of dialogue within an afternoon but on Monday morning I can’t remember a joke I heard Saturday night. I often get stumped when asked how my Read more…
“True story! Can you believe it? Some History Major right?” She says the last bit into the glass, literally into the glass because Caroline is drinking from the oversized wineglass I gave her ten years ago for our anniversary. The big bowled goblet is part of the problem because it forces Read more…
I can’t remember his name but he seems familiar somehow. Vaguely familiar. Everything is vague these days. In truth, it’s been that way for some time. The memory has always been sketchy, except for poetry, I can still recite the Sonnets and pages upon pages of Dickenson and Donne. But Read more…
This is not the setting Gwen imagined, a nondescript hospital room. But it makes sense, these are the last hours of her mother’s life. If not with her dying breath when else would she whisper the secret she denied for a lifetime. Pastels and pressed wood. Gwen wishes there was more Read more…