Matilda parked Grandma under the tree while she hung the wet sheets on the line. “I love the smell of fresh laundry,” Grandma said as she watched her hired care giver. Matilda smiled and nodded. “This has always been my favorite tree,” she continued, lifting her arms to take in the outstretched branches, the canopy … Continue reading One Tiny Moth Hole
On December 7th, 1941, my mother was at her friend Louise’s house. They were picking the first oranges of the season when Louise’s mother came out to the yard to tell them the news that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. Every year after, my mother commemorated the date by picking, and then eating, the … Continue reading My Mother’s Orange Tree
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: bulgaricus, in an orange room, why is she crying, the farm, he palmed his meds, there is no one there, hey baby, they were new, Kansas, healing, big medicine, Hank 25 years ago, they were young, is it all a sham, poppies like flames dancing, sat, peaceful … Continue reading An Orange Room On a Blue Planet
