Memoir by Carolee Bertisch
As I open each envelope, the ancient rubber bands holding it together fall into little worms at my feet.
As I open each envelope, the ancient rubber bands holding it together fall into little worms at my feet.
Fog obscured the houses. The scrawny, shaven-head rickshaw man sighed and hummed with the pedaling noise.
My dying mother did not leave this earth until she said with her last breath, 'And please dye your hair.'
For the first forty years of my life, I was quite happy as an adopted child who knew nothing about his origins.
Did I mention the small kitchen fire I started cooking mac ’n’ cheese?
Boldly, I decided To Act. To Take a Stand. I would…wear an armband.
I’m not ready yet. Really, God, all those times I said I wish I was dead? I didn’t mean it.
I still wonder if learning to write in another language is like taking a leap into space.
I imagine every family has a set of stories they share.
Parker was as macho as he seemed, as alpha as his first hero Spenser.