red light
The woman two cars over is my mother. The woman two cars over is my mother’s mother. Her hair has become soft, downy. The air flows through it and I want to reach across the lanes to feel its softness and brush the wisps from where they graze her forehead. The stickers on her car tell me what she loves. She is a climate voter. She loves birds and wild lands. She feels the weight of the natural…
View On WordPress











