not living

Get the entire story posting schedule here!   The Art of Crafting friends by Kathleen Palm   The first time I saw a ghost, I was three. The wispy form of Dad came to my room and said good-bye. I remember it clearly, how the flowered wallpaper on my wall cut across his middle, vague blobs of color shining through his gray form. I remember his wavering grin and the shine of his eyes. I remember how free he was. No more questions. No more pain. No more limits. Just cold bliss. I hold onto that image, that feeling as I tuck my hands in my lap, my fingers[...]