Cat and Child
It rained the entire time we dug the little ditch. Rained pretty hard. But we had already waited hours for it to stop, and the cat wrapped in a towel in the garage could not wait. My daughter, not much bigger at the time than the doll she cradled in her arms, escorted me outside, as if the precious moments from back door, to backyard were more valuable to her than any gold we might one day discover, or any dreams we might fulfill. Thirteen. Pumpkin lived to an unlucky number, I realized, as mud stuck to the bottoms of our shoes like suction cups. I lightly pushed the shovel into the mud with...
Read MoreThe Sign
We were on a road trip in a blue station wagon through the oppressive heat and the barrage of windshield bugs of the southern states. I played with toy soldiers in the back where I bounced around with the luggage. Dad saw the rest stop up ahead, a Howard Johnson’s advertising 24 flavors of ice cream, so we pulled into the lot. I ran ahead to the lobby bathrooms and started to push through the door of the men’s room when a big hand grabbed me by my collar and yanked me back hard. “Not that one, boy,” the man said gruffly. I looked up thinking I had...
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