The day my mother died I learned that the commonest noun in the English language is time. That morning I sat alone by her bed, stroking her forehead as her eyes fluttered open and closed and the night made its slow transition into nebulous light. As I touched her skin, then her hair, I said all the things a son says to a dying mother,…
A Lesson on the Road
An excerpt… Puerto Vallarta is one of those glad and gamboling Mexican beach towns where everybody’s always stopping you to ask whether you’re married or not. Considering the substantial number of newly wedded Norteamericanos who come to sunburn themselves along Vallarta’s fabled shores, it’s a bit of a softball question – a way to crack the intercultural code and to start a conversation about what…
from Dear Anna by Jon-Michael Frank
Anna, I like that picture you sent me of a wooden chair spotted with pink petals in a misty and abandoned parking lot. I wonder if this is how the healing begins. Sitting in a fog alone. They say that if you recite an effective mantra over and over again during intense meditation sessions you can transcend consciousness. But I’ve never doubted for one second…
Untitled Ink Drawing
This artwork appears in our Fall 2013 issue (Vol. 60.1).
Sixteen Cans of Pineapple by Cathy Adams
An excerpt… When Kate opened the cabinet doors she saw nothing but pineapple, can after can of pineapple. She had been there the week before dropping off her mother’s dry cleaning, but she didn’t think to look in the kitchen cabinets. She held a door open in each hand, counting. “You have sixteen cans of pineapple.” “I do?” Stella put her wooden spoon down and…