In all those seventy-three sea and lakeside summers, those long idyllic sun-filled days with fat fluffs of white sailing high to cast now-and-again shade, or those humid, hazy days when the whine of mosquitoes filled her ears and no-seem-‘ems swarmed her damp body, she never learned to swim. Not really. Not beyond a doggy paddle.Continue reading “Fish in the Water”
Fearless Feminist Writing for Today's World
Ruminations 