The floor tasted like a glob of Mom’s lasagna, the crumbs of her bread, her spill of lemonade, her angry cries, her stomping out the door. I licked it daily, nightly, tasting her return.
Marcy Dilworth has been writing forever, but only recently started inviting anyone to witness it. She earned her English degree at the University of Virginia, and her sense of humor at the hands of four older siblings. She lives in her newly empty nest with her husband writing anything but what she expects.