Where I Come From . . .

the house had jasmine bushes that scented the backyard, veiling the odors from our rubbish bins. It’s where my sisters screeched with laughter every time I read the lines “Sing Mother Sing, Can Mother Sing, Mother Can Sing,” from The Radiant Reader because our Ma had the voice of a man, where, when Ma answered … Continue reading  Where I Come From . . .