The Best Day Ever
Through a Dari interpreter, Ahmad’s mother told me he began to stutter at age four, after he saw someone killed and tried to wake him. Ahmad and his family had been Afghan refugees in the U.S. for two years. I’d been his ESL teacher for a few months. One second-grade morning he asked me to...
Nursing
When my great-grandfather was born in Mississippi, white folks still hired Black women living in the sharecropper cabins as wet nurses. On the long ride to the plantation house, or the mansion in town, or the cottage ‘round the way, the women crossed their arms over shirtwaists sticky with milk
Somewhere on a city street
three pink roses sit out on a peeling window sill. No bigger than the tip of my thumb, they’re tucked in tiny thimbles of water. It’s a day when we walk back slowly from the community center, late summer heat, a strange, sticky silence on the streets. It starts to rain, not quite drops, but...
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