I don't see any gophers here anymore, Cowboy said from the deck of his mom and stepdad on the evening of his birth.
The four of us meet up that evening for corn on the cob and steaks on the grill. I ate every morsel on my plate.
They're still here, his mother said. You want the gun?
I'm pretty sure my mother never directed a sentence like that to me... and apparently for good reason.
Look, there's one over there! I said.
No, Katie, Cowboy said. Gophers don't have wings.
Sorry. My OCD won.
-
(If you subscribe to my art substack, this letter is already waiting for
you in your mailbox, but I’m sharing it here too in case you don’t do
substack but...
3 days ago

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