Without Her
The idea of what truly makes a family is a complicated notion at best, even within the frozen insistence of the Cold War standard of mother, father, and then some babies. There have always been so many whorls, small as fingerprints, filled with hidden lanes, ones that refuse tending, branches grown over what was once a common thread, a new fresh vine on the tree by the river with the dust-colored...
The idea of what truly makes a family is a complicated notion at best, even within the frozen insistence of the Cold War standard of mother, father, and then some babies. There have always been so many whorls, small as fingerprints, filled with hidden lanes, ones that refuse tending, branches grown over what was once a common thread, a new fresh vine on the tree by the river with the dust-colored...
