Aunt Beth’s Irises
Every spring, the flowers unrobed themselves from their long green stalks, like indigo flags declaring the end of the winter—and their own ability to survive it.
Every spring, the flowers unrobed themselves from their long green stalks, like indigo flags declaring the end of the winter—and their own ability to survive it.
There’s always someone to wave to.
We drove past house after house set high on pillars to protect from future hurricane storm surges.
Eleven months in, we’re still getting bills from the recalcitrant United HealthCare, our ostensible health insurer.
At that moment, Cline walked up and said, in his miraculously gentle drawl, “You can take her home if you want to.”