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It was spring: the field, a botanist’s mirage of wild flowers.

Louise watched from the shadow. She was looking for somewhere to land.

The war was about to begin, and the four boys were
in charge.

When the doctors’ voices started turning to noise, I didn’t fight it.

This is a novel that contains more than its actuarial share of falls.

The window washer smiles a little and licks his lips. Nadine smiles back.

You’re going to have a difficult life if you can’t figure out where to stand.

At the core, a daughter is a self-reckoning emptiness.

Not the Olympics, the guard said. Just chuck yourself down the tube.

There were classes where you became a family. It was a kind of love affair.

As a child I wanted to behold the elusive squid, the patience of eels.

She was painting a bedroom, trying to be a good mother, wife, Catholic.

“O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it!”

The joy and anguish of youth, captured in two six-word stories.

and still it is summer and each day the sun arouses the kudzu