I don’t feel my grandmother anywhere. She’s like the sun at this time of year. But I remember her, which is a sensation that, if leaned into enough, could pass as feeling her. It’s half of the way there.
I don’t feel my grandmother anywhere. She’s like the sun at this time of year.
But I remember her, which is a sensation that, if leaned into enough, could pass as feeling her. It’s half of the way there.
An essay for Thought Catalog.