Sublime

My family lore includes many almosts; brushes with death that we children just narrowly escaped.

There was something in the flavor of it that spoke to a desperate lostness,

Her life was small, and rich, and entirely hers.

Something has taken the tight ratchet in Joelle’s belly and turned it three turns to the good.

temerity

healthy by any standard unless that standard was pop culture in the year 2002,

used to tease Russell about anthropomorphizing clocks and lamps, for treating the flea market like his personal orphanage. He believed in the souls of objects. It’s where so much of his emotion lived, in these annexes of textiles and glassware, the miscellany of other people’s lives. Items without a home made him restless. It was not enough for you

My mother was everywhere and nowhere, constant but peripheral, the separate acts of care like salt grains dissolved in water. It was hard to see where the fun of it was.

he reminded me of a mole or some other type of burrowing animal: