A new day stretches, and the sky wraps me soft like a baby blanket. The air breathes damp and gentle against my face, sighs into my hair. The cracked concrete of the driveway apron is still wet from the rain, and my children’s small handprints are barely visible in the eroding. Yet Lake Abby spreads dry […]
When We See the Deer
The deer, they tell us, come right up to the windows. My parents did, after all, build and operate the Deerland Motel. Deer have always been a part of our lives in some form. So we move Mom into the room with the view. I see a doe the next day, hidden way back […]
