Sometimes I do not know my face. I see a woman mistaken for an abuela on the Stockton to Sacramento Greyhound. Or, my mother if she never dyed her hair. Maybe I am the sepia photo of my great grandmother when she was a … Continue reading Unknowing
Sometimes I do not know my face. I see a woman mistaken for an abuela on the Stockton to Sacramento Greyhound. Or, my mother if she never dyed her hair. Maybe I am the sepia photo of my great grandmother when she was a … Continue reading Unknowing
Here’s my latest post on Relief Journal. It explains why I burst into tears after my husband gave me the most beautiful blocks for my fortieth birthday. Building