Home from Nantucket by Jennifer Dunn Stewart
What she will remember about that morning won’t be the sky, though this will be what so many will remember. How it was so blue and cloudless.
What she will remember about that morning won’t be the sky, though this will be what so many will remember. How it was so blue and cloudless.
Alerts flash through my phone. High winds. Flash flooding. Seek shelter. Our pup’s at the kitchen door, and I let her in.
When you get as hungry as a bear do you hear the bear? If you do hear the bear, do you hear it from the inside, or from the outside? Does the bear speak French?
While teaching a writing workshop at the Fine Arts Work Center, I invited a friend of mine to join me as I had a whole cottage with three rooms to myself, and to be my guest in the workshop of nonficiton.
“You know what’s terrible?” she said. “Most people never know the last time they’re going to kiss someone. They don’t know that’s it.