I’m sitting at the picnic table in my parents’ kitchen, the mess of art projects and nubbins of flowers picked by siblings and half-finished notebooks and Costco packs of food surround me. Walking down the hill this morning to make coffee cake before they left for church, I had to stop and soak in the…
Spring arrives late this year. The cherry trees in front of my building already dropped their blossoms, suctioned to the pavement but I’m still wearing my wool coat in the mornings. “Dreaming of April” is my March song But she came and is slow to breathe life into the city this time. I don’t resent…