Tag Archives: Emily McDonald

Third love

The offer to pack up, come home again, comes with the usual deterrents, those archaic stirred-up memories: of hymns and after-sermon sheet cake, the dull scrape of plastic forks on paper plates and talks with almost-strangers on the state of … Continue reading

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Funeral in Mainz

My mother’s foster mother keeps a glass- eyed, stiff collection of stuffed bears. About half wear ruffled collars just like Shakespeare, or Queen Elizabeth without airs. She stores ice cream sandwiches in a box inside the freezer, and after dinner … Continue reading

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