a return to the road, twenty-six years later
“Oh no,” my mom said when she saw the bowl.
When she gave you a gift she would say: “This was very expensive.”
“Hallelujah,” she said the last word, drawing it out
I climbed around inside, securing the kids, who’d been kept out too late, into the car seats.
When you're waiting for your nephew
I’ve been told I have a resting “please-come-talk-to-me” face, though I very rarely actually want strangers to talk to me.