When I turned fifty in 1995, the summer was murderously hot and dry, the Williams River reduced to a trickle. The lawn was a parched ochre, threatening to ignite at any careless drop of a match. Sad vestiges of lettuce and spinach shriveled, basil went to seed. I had invited a large, unruly crowd of revelers to celebrate my first half century with me. M…
© 2024 Susie Kaufman
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