the last thing i could bring you

The last thing I could bring you. Photo by Leslee Hare The last thing I could bring you wilted before you left. You smiled and I cried even though I still believed that you’d be coming home. Soon. I didn’t know flowers were not allowed inside the MICU. I’m glad I didn’t care and relieved … Continue reading the last thing i could bring you →

why i write

A few weeks ago, immersed mid-draft in a new novel, in the back of my mind (there’s always something going on in the back of my mind) I wondered why I was writing. The above of my mind (which is pretty reticent these days) responded. “You write to prove you’ve lived.” I didn’t care for … Continue reading why i write →