Day after Thanksgiving, Undoing

Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash

There are only two kinds of soundscapes at my mother’s house: silence, or CBS morning news. Both of these are gently punctuated by other sounds: plates going into the dishwasher, the muted beeps of cooking timers, or soft feet padding down the hall to retrieve a book from the tall book shelves.

I arrive at my mother’s house and I feel deeply loved, accepted, and welcomed. I am aware of my good fortune in…

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