The Box at the Back of My Closet
And why it haunts me. My mother died at the age of 96. I think of her as having lived until 92 and then taking a long, leisurely approach to death. That autumn when she was 92, she had a…
And why it haunts me. My mother died at the age of 96. I think of her as having lived until 92 and then taking a long, leisurely approach to death. That autumn when she was 92, she had a…
How long does the past live? The past is never dead. It’s not even past. — William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun I came of age in the time of lava lamps and mood rings, sit-ins and tie-dye shirts when…