My sister stands at the counter, chopping carrots. The light comes from a window behind me, blinding me to much more than her form and the denseness of her body in the looser air around her, the sound of the knife on the cutting board. Her daughter runs around her legs, out of the kitchen …
Take, said a man, and Eat. There are many in recovery who say that the fourth and the fifth step was their first taste of grace. They’ll say that it felt like a release or lifting of burdens they had been carrying their entire lives and had never really thought would leave. Some might get …
Six months before I quit drinking, my apartment in Brooklyn was broken into. Twice. That same week the neighborhood was plastered with a police sketch of a man called the Granny Strangler. I may never have noticed the posters if I wasn’t cued in, sixth sense hypervigilant wise, to the fact that danger and crime …
