It’s not possible. Dead for thirty years; I smell her soap. I freeze at my desk, papers scattered around me, paused. As if we listen for her voice. Her words fall over my head as in childhood. She is not gone. “Imagine that!” my grandmother would say. I am, Grandma.
Carmen Farrell is an emerging writer and student at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia. Her work in progress concerns a flawed and worried mother raising a neurodiverse child and the judgments they encounter. Prior to taking up writing, she worked in school systems as a public relations specialist and advocate for students with diverse learning needs. See more at turnofphraseblog.com
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