In my memory, my father’s hands are large. His sturdy fingers, the columns that hold up the Parthenon roof, the pillars that secure the world on the turtle’s back, that hold me as I swing between him and my mother when we walk down the street together. His palms span wide enough to encompass mine, […]
Asha is published in various places including Modern Loss, PANK, It Starts With Hope, SheKnows, Dead Housekeeping, and YeahWrite. You can find examples of her writing at the links below.
Mulberry trees stand in two corners of my mother’s garden. In summer, the garden becomes a minefield littered with incendiary devices waiting for a mistimed step, a careless footfall. Splatters of pink-purple cover the driveway, the outlines of shoes and bare feet silhouetted on the concrete. Though resplendent with their purple jewels every year, their […]
I hold him up at arm’s length, an offering to the gods, a tribute. He gurgles and squeals, wriggling in my arms. The sun kisses, then stings us. Beneath, his shadow wriggles along with him. I shudder, without a dark echo. That was the price for our freedom. Image credit: Photo by Riccardo Farinazzo on Unsplash
Header and profile image credit: Jess Gately