Spoons and wounds and the words i couldn’t say…..

We played a game when I was young where a handfull of spoons was fetched from the kitchen and placed loose in a pile on the table, always one fewer than the players gathered ’round. Like in musical chairs,  we would dive to grab a one with a certain turn of hand, and the one…

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When shame and shoes come storming…..

Back when the world was a coloring book and my box of crayons still small, the questions to my answers began to rattle in the wind of a storm that blew in without warning on an ordinary morning as I sat pulling on my school shoes so I could hurry up the hill to catch…

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