Sixty-three Year Old Widow Refused to Hide Her Gray Hair at Work

the scent of woodsmoke from a neighbor’s chimney down the road.

I had bought two dozen yellow tulip bulbs from the garden center near the highway, their dry, papery skins rustling in the brown paper bag beside my knee.

Cynthia had always loved yellow tulips, even when she was a little girl with scraped knees and grass stains on her white socks, running continue reading …