Baby Sprouts

I accustomed myself to accepting death at a very young age.  Death happens.  A person is born, she lives, and she dies.  At its simplest form, a leaf sprouts, soaks in the sun, ripens with color, and crumbles between the fingers in the fall.  In the spring, the cycle will start up again. I thinkContinue reading “Baby Sprouts”

Pray for Our Baby’s Reincarnation

I remember stepping off the city bus with my grandmother.  I was, maybe, three or four years old at the time.  From the bus stop, she and I would trek up and down the Seattle hills, passing by white gladiolas and apple trees and blackberry bushes, to a house that had been transformed into aContinue reading “Pray for Our Baby’s Reincarnation”