The Writing Pen

Amber downlights cast shadows along the path that leads to the observation deck at LowellObservatory. As we follow the pools of orange light that mark the way up the hill, my brother and sister-in-law and I fold our arms tight over our down coats to ward off the cold of the moonless December night. It…

I come from the mountains, born of two souls who knew the power of dreams and the potency of possibility. They carried the first spark of me along a trail of stardust to set me gently down in a place with pine air and diamond stars and lapis sky. Along the low banks of South…