They were fallen angels, Satan’s henchmen, and they were everywhere.
How becoming a parent helped me set more reasonable creative goals.
“Femur, pelvis, flecks of skull—father’s remains are served in a silver tray.”
“The desire and the wrongness both, inseparable, pulled at me.”
We had other places we called home, other cities and countries and people who weren’t present that we loved.
“All my mother had done was try to love me while not loving herself.”
“It never occurred to me to consider Oneida in the same category as an apocalyptic Christian cult.”
“My father was still making plans, and little plans were one way he expressed his love of life.”
In my frightened mind, so many people in my family had been reduced to that one word.