the beds in my grandmother’s house were heavy with love and i miss you.

the beds in my grandmother’s house were heavy with blankets and floral sheets—orange and purple and pink— that made me happy when i was eight, and nine, and six. and again when i was twenty-one, they were a cool, familiar weight on a cold night, and here child, put a hot water bottle by your... Continue Reading →

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: