Eastern Washington’s Huckleberry Heaven
As a kid, I learned to keep sharp eyes for huckleberry bushes on family bike rides on Mt. Spokane, high above my city.
Until Next Time
My Mother’s Gift
I had never seen the two liquor boxes before, sealed with duct tape so old the edges had become brittle, browned and cracked. More duct tape covered the suitcase I recognized as belonging to my grandmother. I had found them buried deep in the back of my mother’s closet as I packed up her tiny apartment after she lost her battle with cancer in 2009.