island girl

The island farmhouse of my childhood: a study in simplicity. My mother loved it here. How silence ignites creativity. Sunbeams and clotheslines, a backyard glimpse of the buck’s velvety beige fur, his calm cervine validation of solitude as necessity—

Creative Nonfiction @cnfonline

Micro-essay by @senior_moment_ #tinytruth

TᕼIᔕ ᗪEᗰEᑎTEᗪ ᒪIᖴE @senior_moment_

A brief visit, an eyeblink, a flashbulb. Damp and frail, the bones of the old house embedded in my own, expelling its frosty breath in a rush of air and we are one, a ghostly infusion of past lives: mothers, fathers, dogs, cats. And I— last in the lineage. #cnftweet #tinytruth

I have inherited it all, now: the island, our house, a writing studio, her muse. Even in winter, water flows beneath the frozen brook in the woods and the tides are not bound by thick chunks of ice on the cove.