A Letter

My dear husband, I never found the key to open the back pasture. I looked everywhere. Your pants pockets. Your coat pockets. You sure have a lot of coats. I even looked in the pockets of that yellow rain slicker that makes you look like the Gortons Fisherman. I looked on the ground near the …

Misplaced

It's been almost three months. Three months since our lives stopped being what they were and abruptly switched to a bad made-for-tv movie. There is a draginess to things now. A deep underlying sorrow. I do manage to get things done. I manage my kids' schedules and I manage the farm and I have even …