Remnants of Strings-memoir excerpt Strings in our Hands
On the weekends, my aunt and I walked. October wind blustered but the cotton in my ears held. Only slightly muffled, I heard my aunt’s question. “I remember when you told me that your friend in Guatemala named one of her children after you. Do you know anything about that child?” Maria Candelaria. My weaving teacher. I dropped my head. After COVID, but admittedly before and for much longer, I had not. What had become of this little girl? She would be about ten. Tomorr
An Absence of Water-novel excerpt Sol
Atonement and drought are absent of water. Things that are present with me this Yom Kippur are also connected observing an absence of water. I only fasted one Yom Kippur. It was 2006. I was in Guatemala and my brother was deployed in Iraq. I considered, tried, failed to fast on other Yom Kippurs as a means to feel connected across distance. The novel I am currently writing is about an imbalance in the world's water, our water. The novel I am currently writing believes that
שנה טובה ומתוקה
Honey is sweet and memory is sticky. September is an intersection of identity I can claim, but sometimes don't know how, and an identity...
