Of all the things the woman had done to decorate her dirt patch of a front yard there on Dunning Avenue, she was proudest of the glittery store-bought card she’d taped to the plastic burro’s nose.
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After the daughter’s fourth miscarriage, her mother flies across the country to introduce her to the ancestors, the ones whose bones rest somewhere in the hills of deep Mexico. She thinks she is ready, but she is not. Nothing has prepared her for this.
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Welcome to Snooze™. I am Ura, your trusted sleep guide. For this session, I will ferry you to a warm place where sleep awaits you. Though your bones are tired and your body weary, they are worthy of rest.
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They agreed. They agreed not to say “I love you” anymore. He slapped the flaccid slice of pizza on the top of the overstuffed garbage.
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Episode 4.01: Surprise Surprise
As Nana’s birthday approaches, Taylor seeks out a replacement gift when he learns that both he and Jason have gotten her copies of her favorite novel, Wuthering Heights. Meanwhile, Alice gets into a fight with her older sister Martha after Martha tells her she isn’t responsible enough to keep a pet.
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Every driver—including my cousin Chup-boy here—is in a panic. Two five-gallon, white paint buckets rolling in the left lane on Knollwood exploded out every way like ink blot central.
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(hope it is ok I’m typing up here, but I’d exceeded the characters in the relationship to mother box) so to get back to the question, Piper and me meet Mom one Sunday a month at the waterpark in Marina Cove now.
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When our tía wasn’t pat-pat-patting masa to make sopes, or when she wasn’t zapateando, her heels ta-tapping and za-zazzing! on the kitchen floor (a luxury of living on the ground floor, no one to complain other than maybe mole people), or when she wasn’t at church praying for Doña This’s health or for Doña That’s daughter to come to her senses and leave that bueno para nada, desgraciado, cholo of a boyfriend of hers—when she wasn’t doing any of that, our tía was at our house, watching the latest episode of Teresa with us, helping our mom cook pozole or tamales or enchiladas, threading conspiracy theories into our heads.
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Shin started raising a flock of Jian birds in the backyard three months ago after he got laid off. He changes their water and feed every morning before I wake, and by the time I’ve dragged myself out of bed, he’s sitting by the window with a plate of sunflower seeds, splitting them open and discarding the shells in a neat pile on a napkin and popping the seed meat into his mouth while watching the Jian attempt to fly.
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That winter, my girlfriend Nora dislocated her shoulder stripping in a pole fitness class. We celebrated Martin Luther King Jr. Day by driving to a hot spring just across the border in Idaho. On the way, we told elk stories.
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Then Tuesday I found out where the coyotes were coming from. Our neighbor Amina trapped me on Hillhurst and whispered it—the guy on the corner was feeding them cut-up hot dogs.
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A lady with a touchscreen tablet makes her way up and down the line. “Are you here for an upgrade?” she asks.
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Mina was telling me about zuo yue zi. There were a lot of rules. No washing your hair. No A/C. No going outside, so no more of our daily power walks.
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After weeks of anticipation, Chung’s mother dropped his sister off at Rock Springs campgrounds outside Junction City. His sister, Jordan, would spend six days counseling twelve-year-olds at D.A.R.E. camp.
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He’s at the window again when I wake up, all red hair and dents in his skin and eyes the color of browned beef.
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Mr. Park watches from his seat at the storefront. Images of the aisles flicker in a 3x3 grid on his screen. The cameras were installed last year after six boxes of Wet Tresses Kanekalon braiding hair and X-pression Kinky Twists went missing from the shelves.
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vs. Lunenberg W 48-45 1-0
I see now that so much of what I love about basketball has nothing to do with basketball.
Before games, the nervous-heartbeat fluttering of fluorescent lights in the locker room. After practices, the wide flat brooms leaning together in the corner of the gym like crossed fingers.
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Kees is heading to the gym to take a class with Vinny, who never texted him back. Kees looks at the unanswered text on his phone, considers sending another one, and decides it is better to say nothing.
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Weekends, holidays, I fold up the altar and pack the car, bring my cards to False Creek where the tourists pour through the market, seeking blown glass and crab legs, a taste of the local urbanity, perhaps a spiritual aperitif.
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My Grandma loves Law School. She asks me how Law School is on the phone. She’s so happy someone is taking care of me. She’s so proud of how well I turned out, the way I grew out of all that pesky melancholy and into a practical, well-adjusted adult.
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