This piece evoked all kinds of memories for me, so it felt very much like anne was writing directly to me (she wasn’t, of course, but that makes it all the more notable for that reason).
Without going into details of my own too far, it conjured up memories: traipsing around Swede Hollow in my 20s, before they’d cleaned it up in earnest and really turned it into a useable park, and memories of fly-fishing for trout along Fishtail Creek in Montana with my great uncle, a man who always had a story to tell (and had a katana from WWII that I always coveted as a child).
Anyway, anne knocks this one out of the park as far as I am concerned. Check it out if you have five minutes to spare in the next few days.
Aidy and her grandfather walk memory lane and get their feet wet in the process. Grief, flash fiction, 5 minutes.upstream — anne a p a r t