Shards of History

When the war was over, she pulled up the floorboard, dug the vase back up, and showed it to her husband and children. They knew it had been in the family for six generations. The painted porcelain was done by Jean-Jacques Bachelier. It had survived through the War of the First Coalition, War of the Sixth Coalition, the Hundred Days between France and the Netherlands, and now the Great War. Its beauty still in tact.

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A Day In The Life

… Her room was filled with all the things I would want in my own, if I had a room. It took all the breath I had left for the day to walk up the six flights to Lela’s apartment. Situated a few blocks from the yellow beach, her windowsills were speckled in shells, incense and statues of animals. On one wall hung a tapestry with a mandala. On another wall hung a giant floral anatomy poster, complete with a magnetic wooden frame that mimicked schoolhouse pull-down charts. Her bed had the soft, cooling linen that one only finds in a room like hers— creamy in every sense of the word: texture, color, and scent. Each item in her room was perfectly spaced out from the others, like a well-designed landscape. I felt entirely out of place there, wearing my ripped jeans, faded t-shirt and boots that were starting to come apart at the seams. My hiking pack was covered in dirt. My hair was a little messy, and mousy brown, and my skin was excessively tan, from being outside all the time.

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New-Fangled Technology

My mother uses her phone for research. Instead of bookmarks, she saves links to webpages on her home screen. I remind her that they can’t be transferred to a new phone, and she could lose them.
My grandmother learns how to turn on her phone. She follows her directions for sending a text message. She accidentally sends a ten minute video of her feet with the news playing in the background.

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A flood. The first instant was chaos.The news, received with no less than a few hours to react, was their last step in a contingency plan, allowing ours to even begin….

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