Picking Flowers
Abstract
Your refrigerator door is a crazy quilt of death and life: a yellowed form from the state reads, “Do Not Resuscitate”; dog-eared photos show you beaming as mother and wife. Those instructions I sent you for stopping nosebleeds— sit up, lean forward, compress— sit right beside your grandson’s crayon sketch: dressed in your Julia Child apron, Mother, you are ever the reigning spirit of this house....