I have never seen a wolf. Not in the wild. My dad did, once. Up north, as they say, in the Boundary Waters. We kids were all asleep in the tent when he woke to cook trout caught the night before. And to smoke cigarettes. Just him and the rocks and an early morning mist. …
Tag: creative nonfiction
Plain Jane
Someone once told me angels sang in heaven. The tall man with the black book clasped to his chest greeted us every Sunday. He talked of judgment and error and sin. He talked of angels. I sang in the choir but no one told me I was an angel. They informed me that I was…
