In the kitchen, at the time, was a stone lion that my folks had gotten from the estate of a family friend who'd died very suddenly. My mother still has the lion out in front of her house. This reminds me that I'm leaning on a very similar lion in front of my apartment building. It's that spring air. Makes Proust's madeline cake look like a crappy Oreo.
Stuff just comes out in the strangest ways.
Springtime just starts releasing all your stories at once. I wish I could hear yours in amidst the spring rain and the smell of the crocuses in wet dirt and the sounds of the wind. For magazine, or submission question info, please e-mail toast .