You said that you would never want to be remembered as anything but lucky. But now, a year after your death, and here, in this stark, symmetrical place more rigid than the most restrictive poem, I wonder whom to blame your luck on—God? You said that you could always turn to God, that given any […]

October. They decide it is time to move. The family has grown too large, the house too small. The father smokes his pipe. He says, I know that you all love this house. He turns to his child who is crying. She doesn’t want to leave. Outside in the large bright yard the leaves are […]