Oak Park Library is closed through mid-December for construction. Read more »
Aria pointed at the little flower on her ankle with a short, chubby finger and asked her mother in her unpracticed, fragmented English about what it was. “Pretty,” she said, her ‘r’ little too rounded and her voice broken up by her childish laughter.
You lose in the end.
In the end, you cry for 6 months and spend sleepless nights wondering why you weren’t enough.
In the end, your bedsheets become tissues for your tears and your pillow becomes a microphone.
Sadness will shake the walls of your room.
when you click your heels and wish for home, where exactly is it that you go? i packed away all my ambition in manilla envelopes of faded dreams and sent them away to coral reefs so schools of fish a generation after me could learn from my mistakes.
I remember Pauline Miller. Before she moved,
She lived in an understated, light green, box of house
on Raldoph Avenue.
She lived there for a long time.