The spires are a distinctive part of the New England landscape, whether nestled in the mountains or close to the shoreline, like this one, where they also serve as landmarks for mariners.

You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
The spires are a distinctive part of the New England landscape, whether nestled in the mountains or close to the shoreline, like this one, where they also serve as landmarks for mariners.

Here are some qualities I most like in a man.
~*~
How ’bout you?
It’s a fair question in my novel What’s Left.
Just what do we owe to our ancestors?

I promised to leave the door open
no matter what
vainly hoping a pearl would appear
in the rusting lock
as if she would ever again wear it
~*~
yes, I left it open
but don’t live there anymore
assuming you’ll never see frail fragrant blossoms pendulous as an archway in the museum I parachute from our embrace so wide open I’ll drift a mile in the bobbing fullness of an eggshell antiquity . clearly, our love of your plump dreams would feast, yes, pray, at last lifting these arms together . maybe nothing more than the snap of the cord could be lovelier
And, oh yes, we learned to spell coronavirus and even pronounce it.
What’s high on your own list of takeaways?

Maybe the family restaurant was oppressive? In my novel What’s Left, there’s no question the kids won’t be working shifts in Carmichael’s as they grow up. Do they ever want to rebel? Or does peer pressure and pride keep them in line?
As one of them said in an earlier draft:
So it was off to serve more Streetcars and slaw.
~*~
Well, they knew what was expected. And they knew how to pitch in and be effective.
What were you expected to do in your family? How did you help? Were you compensated in return? Should you have been?
Now, make all that present tense!
~*~
