dotted with certain life
The maple out front, coming to life again. *** The other day, Ruth said, "I've decided I like pandas and zebras more than unicorns." She was chewing on something from an unknown source as she said it. Likely old Easter candy she'd squirreled away in a pocket of her backpack, likely covered in lint and playground sand. She used the particular tone of voice that arises when she feels she's gotten to the bottom of a Great Truth on her own— equal parts valley girl, (S's doubled in length) and ESL teacher (over-enunciating, heavy articulation). I love that , I said. Why leave magic only to the imagination? It's everywhere . * Then, as if Ruth's pronouncement was a grand and masterful cue, Spring happened. The oddly thin veil of winter and sleep and dormancy had been stripped away like a bandaid, or a tablecloth-swiped from beneath dishes gathered and stacked like sediment, a shattering may do us all some good. What is exposed underneath is the cir
