This is a sad anniversary: nineeteen years ago today, my mother died at the age of 56 of a heart attack as she lay in bed.
I dreamt of her that night, floating up to a window to tell me goodbye. She appeared in my dreams only a few times more, less and less as the years went by. Once every long while, she'll be there in that different reality in which all time happens at the same time, when nothing is ever lost and there is no reason for sorrow.
Wareham, Massachusetts
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There’s a deeper malaise going on, physically and spiritually, in the air,
maybe long covid or long lyme, microplastics. Point five percent of what we
no...
2 years ago