Do Better

The father squatted down on the patch of mud and dead grass. The little boy, maybe five or six, stood beside him, watching closely as his father pushed the metal legs of the stand into the soft earth, which in January should have been bedrock. The father straightened up, stepped back, placed his hands on…

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A Little Light in Fall

I had no idea why Dad was so grumpy. They were just leaves–piles of them that he had spent the last hour raking onto a big, blue tarp and hauling off into the woods at the edge of our yard. While my father raked, my brother and I chased each other around the yard, diving,…

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Women Do

At first it seems like the three women are just hanging out in the middle of the Commonwealth Ave. mall—a quiet, tree-lined promenade that runs like an artery through the heart of Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood. Abigail Adams, Phillis Wheatley, and Lucy Stone appear as life-size bronze statues, posed around large granite blocks. Quotes from…

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Hearts and Seeds

For a long time now I’ve been catching hearts out in the wild. They show up everywhere—in patterns of leaves, in the formation of clouds in the sky, as graffiti on the sides of underpasses. It’s a lot like that Sixth Sense kid, “I see hearts, they’re everywhere!” and sometimes I do whisper in that…

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