“Scoot together and say cheese!” I said, pointing the camera in their direction. The girls scrunched their bodies closer, chocolate dripping from their chins,
I met Maya Angelou in New York at an event for the last book she wrote, Mom and Me and Mom, in 2012. I waited
He’s looking at me with that look in his eyes, the one that holds the monsoon. The tears are coming, the fit, the fight.
The smell of ancient paper still makes me want to sob, the way spines line up like soldiers on the wooden shelves of small-town