A knock at the door. Faces rippled and blurred in their movement behind the door’s cut glass window. Arriving in groups of two or four, they walked up our driveway, past the newly-cleaned flower beds where iris plants stood tall in narrow green wedges and daisy plants grouped in loping round-edged leaf clumps. “Welcome!” “You…

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Popping open the lid from the sugar cookies container, I choose the most-iced versions of the two-inch sugar cookie men. At the dining room table, I pour another cup of coffee and bite a cookie figure in half. Clicking an ink gel-tipped pen into ready, I’m still processing yesterday’s time here. “Teach me to number…

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“You’re from Living Faith Church, right?” She asks me, this woman in a public bathroom. “I saw your bus.” In a cement multi-stalled bathroom at Valley Fair amusement park, with chlorine-scented puddles on the floor, we stand in a corner of the hallway. Her warm smile draws my attention and I stop and recognize her.…

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  “You can’t go back there. There’s nothing there for you and nothing solid that you can hold on to there.” Pink twilight slips off four tall blue spruce trees. Yellow and tan houses blanch highlit and then fade to cool cream as the sun dips lower. Neighborhood noises are quiet but my mind is…

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“Siri, text Mom…” and I rattle off a stream of sentences. The phone blinks yellow green at me and beeps, before reading aloud my words. A mix of garbled and legitimate phrases echo up to me from where the phone sits, untouched, in the car cup holder. I laugh at one translation of my thoughts…

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Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping fresh hot coffee, I watched them. Small silver snowflakes flew in from the south, flying right to left across my windows. My family and I cheered and immediately started humming Christmas music. Naked December lawns morphed white, and the wind blew harder. “It’s snowing!” we exclaimed to each new…

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“Can I join you?” Her eyes are skeptical, wondering, as she stares at the kitchen table. I don’t blame her. Yellow highlighters, six sharpened pencils, and slips of paper sticking out of stacks of graduate-level books mix with sixth grade grammar pages, obliterating the¬†world map below. “Yes,” I assure her, sliding papers and school books…

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Salted caramel cream coffee sits sweet on my lips on a quiet Saturday. Snow rests on the drooping pumpkin family out front, and blue jays creep cautious to the seeds in the snow. Two families come to mind, three, actually. The first family’s farm is forty-five minutes away. Winding through tiny towns and wind-swept corn…

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