You can’t tell from the photo, but I was completely undone.
All by Ian Owens
You can’t tell from the photo, but I was completely undone.
The wet snow in the woods forces me to run on the road this morning.
At age 56 Mom went for her college degree and I admired that. But algebra eluded her, so I offered tutelage.
My cure for today's news: I lean over handlebars, legs churn, heart thumps. Breathe in. Breathe out. Wind whispers through helmet holes.
I dropped my bag in the aisle. Then a young man stood up, motioned to his seat. "Sir? Please."
First bite, no problem. Second bite felt wrong: cold and squishy.
I wait, masked as they wheel her out. Six feet away, also masked, a shrunken white thing. In clothes I've never seen before. I tell her my name. She repeats it, as a question.