It is nearing sunset on the Gulf. The wind is picking up, and the families who have slathered their babies in sunscreen and shaded themselves with umbrellas and soaked in salt water all day have almost all gone home.
Bounty [dinner table]
I’ve known these carrots all their lives. These tomatoes, too. Food like this should be a right, not a privilege: Food that doesn’t require a can or cardboard box to get from field to table.
Survivors [independence]
Each week, domestic violence survivors gather for a support group. To an outsider, the successes here can sometimes feel so miniscule, you might wonder why they matter. But they do.
Detroit Metropolitan Airport, 8:55 p.m. [airport]
The terminal at night is hard angle and echoed sound, cold plastic chairs and gaping monitors, chemical carpet smell and bone-deep exhaustion.
Everyday Things [memorial]
We are all constantly creating miniature, personal versions of memorials. They are less glamorous than those commissioned by city fathers, but in some ways more complex and storied than these.
