Author: Mike Freeman

Lexicon

Habit led me down to the rocks—habit and Shannon’s elation, which would have dragged us to roiled water if custom hadn’t. The waves had drawn more of a crowd than mid-October normally sees, along with the tropic air whorled up…

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The Song in our Heads

With the sun noon-high and the day and lake so still, not even shadows disturbed the silted bottom. Four years old now, Flannery, having followed the yard-long, finger-width furrow to its source, reached in the water to pluck another burrowed…

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Something Like Empathy: Racism and Autism

When our daughter Shannon was labeled autistic at twenty-one months, racism wasn’t in my thoughts. Being white, it rarely is. Autism, though, was pervasive.   Prior to parenthood I’d led a criminally contented life. Raised in a loving family, I…

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And Evening

Outside the old panes, the few ash and maple crowns stood bare in dead air and dead light, the skies beyond them so often matched to pewter around here. Snow, maybe rain, usually both along the coast. For two hundred–some…

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