The Hidden Lines of the Family Land We Shared

before I could answer.

I stood there alone, the cold wind biting through my clothes.

Was I really risking my mother’s comfort just to prove myself right about a hand-drawn map?

I carried the wood back inside, the weight of the logs heavy in my arms.

The living room was quiet, save for the rhythmic creak of my mother’s rocking chair near the hearth.

She continue reading …