by Laura
2 March 2012
It’s thirteen degrees here this morning. The young pines are bending under the weight of heavy, wet snow, threatening to break, and the tall shrubs are splayed out like snow-covered wreaths strewn along the pathway I’ve shoveled to the house. Annie, our little terrier, thinks the snow is a platform across the patio out back; [...]
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by Laura
1 March 2012
My grandma was a letter writer. I have sheaves of her letters, all typed and on thin, pale green paper. They detail the buses she took, and in what weather, to the bank, to Mass, to help with the church rummage sale; the breakfasts and lunches and dinners she ate—toast with butter or peanut butter, [...]
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