At My Father’s Funeral My Sister Told Me to Stay Away From the Cabin I Inherited, So I Drove There Anyway

The church smelled of old wood and too many competing perfumes, and by the time we made it back to my mother’s house in Albany, everyone was exhausted in the particular way that funerals exhaust you, which is not the tiredness of the body but something deeper and less recoverable. People I hadn’t seen in years moved through the living room with the continue reading …