The Hidden Lines of the Family Land We Shared

the soft tick of the regulator clock on the wall.

I stood at the sink, washing my blue ceramic mug with warm, soapy water.

The steam rose around my face, smelling of chamomile and the clean, mineral scent of the well water.

I dried the mug with a linen dish towel and set it carefully on the wooden rack by the window.

On the kitchen table continue reading …