Liveaboards In my new island life, I am a woman on the beach, all wrapped against the wind. It is not sunny. I am no longer young. The skies are gray; perhaps it is misting or has misted or will mist. I am not old. The water is choppy, little whitecaps rolling in like glimpses …
Fridays became the day I drove in the late morning from Aurora to Ithaca to see Bruce. Our relationship was limited to the hours we spent in the church he and his wife were renovating—and when he was my professor in our creative writing class. We never left the church and were never seen together. …