On the evening of the very last day of 2010, my husband and I zig-zagged our way through the Musashi-Kosugi train station markets where I admired clear plastic boxes of fresh shrimp tempura and soba.
Ramblings while on a slow suburban death.
Tag: #shortstory
My sister and I spent many of our Thanksgivings with Patricia’s family in a light purple flat deep in San Francisco’s Richmond district.
This is a sweltering desert town where the temperature is on low broil setting.
Opening Day at Candlestick Park was always the best day of the year, a time of new hope, fresh grass, hot dogs, long rides on buses, towering fly balls, hot sun and cold, cold wind.
There are very few childhood memories of my father, a man who was already rushing towards old age by the time I was born. At 50, he was already overweight, working the graveyard shift at the old Joseph Magnin department store in San Francisco. He was always asleep by the time I got home from school, and I was ready for bed by the time he was getting ready for work.
Childless and in the suburbs, or don’t spare the speculum!
Published by Anna Pirhana on March 14, 2014If there is one thing I have learned while living in the suburbs, it is that people will find 101 uses for an empty uterus.