It fills up the potholes and stripped-away concrete in the streets and makes an already rough commute sluggish. In the summer, it rains almost every afternoon, as if the city itself hits a breaking point right around 2 p.m. — “all right, it’s just too hot” — and gives up and breaks down in storms.
Mile by mile, cookie by cookie, escaping the holidays
It took me ten years to learn how to write about my father, about his life and death, about how I was still learning to live without him. I am still learning.
“What are you talking about, I love NPR so much, I wish I could eat it and bathe in it and take it to Tanglewood to see Stephen Stills and Judy Collins.”