Memories of a futureless present in Urban Bucolica: a yahrzeit post about last words

It's been 41 years since the day my father dropped my sister and me at school. Neither of us knew that would be the last time we saw him. Debby was in eighth grade and got dropped first. I was a freshman in high school, so got an extra six minutes of one-on-one time. What … Continue reading Memories of a futureless present in Urban Bucolica: a yahrzeit post about last words