I recently had an essay published at Entropy Magazine online.
Here’s the introduction:
In the sixteen years my husband and I have lived on this farm, only three times have sirens screamed out along our rural road. We can’t see the road from our house, but we recognize traffic by sound. Sirens resonate through the hills like a ringing in the ear as they work their way through valleys, vehicles straightening out the curving roads that follow creeks and streams. The ringing rises to a wailing shriek, louder and louder as the vehicles get closer, vehement mechanical screaming amidst the solemn mountains.
Last week, one by one, seven sirens sliced through our serene country evening just after dinner. They were, by the sound of it, law enforcement—fast, high pitched whooping, but without the low thrumming of an ambulance or fire truck’s massive motor. We wondered what happened. Law enforcement miles from town, flying along with sirens blaring? You do not need a scanner or a news broadcast to know something major has happened, something somber…
Read the piece in its entirety at: The Birds: OLD SCARS, NEW WOUNDS | ENTROPY