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Talking to Yourself

December 16, 2022December 15, 2022 / Katie Baker / Leave a comment

How do you keep someone from becoming a ghost? Write things down. Make the memories more concrete. Life is transient in more ways than we imagine. You take things for granted. You imagine certain people and things as part of your life forever. However we don't realize we are creatures who live with an ever-present … Continue reading Talking to Yourself

The Fault Lines of Nostalgia

May 6, 2022May 6, 2022 / Katie Baker / 2 Comments

When I was a child, I was fascinated by abandoned things. Houses, roads, plots of land, store fronts— whole towns. It didn’t matter. My imagination exploded whenever I came across the empty, the broken-down or the grown over. To this day, vivid memories— like snapshots— live on in the back shelves of my brain: a … Continue reading The Fault Lines of Nostalgia

Two Sides of a Coin

January 3, 2022January 3, 2022 / Katie Baker / Leave a comment

Wishes die slowly, fighting with every kick and punch and gasp. But wishes– dreams– are fanciful things made most of midnight talks and music full of empty drums and open spaces. Dreams are born of a lonely heart, twenty-two years too long, and hope like a prune. Loneliness is the twin to dreams. It is … Continue reading Two Sides of a Coin

Her Favorite Place

December 6, 2021December 6, 2021 / Katie Baker / 4 Comments

“Come here so I can lay my head on your shoulder.” Propped up in bed by a mountain of pillows, he rests his blue-lined, much-scared hand down on the comforter beside him. The other hand lies across his stomach, IV’s and plastic sprouting from it and running down the side of the bed. His wife … Continue reading Her Favorite Place

Broken Memory

November 22, 2021November 21, 2021 / Katie Baker / 4 Comments

Every day he arrives, hooks his cane over the end of her bed, and settles into the chair beside her. He always brings her treats-- candy, flowers, cupcakes, cards written in shaky handwriting she feels obligated to recognize. Some days she sits in a chair by the window; other days her frail limbs are wrapped … Continue reading Broken Memory

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