Montana

As a child growing up in Montana, I imagined my cowboy grandpa’s life to be as inspiring and majestic as the mountains around me. I was wrong.

Just a heads-up that many stories I’ve written here – especially in the past two years – are now in “private mode,” so no one can see them except me. …

Before I was born, you knew me. You sang lullabies to me, still unborn. You memorized my kicks, my restlessness. Wept with joy in hope, and wept with fear in despair: how to feed this unexpected mouth? Your first baby died – you were just 22…