When Summer Left I remember being rocked to sleep on my grandmother’s lap, her apron stained with flour and berries, the brush of her hand on my bare feet in summer, lemonade in a turquoise pitcher. Her world—my world, wolves... Continue Reading →
When Summer Left I remember being rocked to sleep on my grandmother’s lap, her apron stained with flour and berries, the brush of her hand on my bare feet in summer, lemonade in a turquoise pitcher. Her world—my world, wolves... Continue Reading →