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A Real Life by Dawn Woods
*He called it a disorder, and he meant it. They want outlets for cables and cords supported by dependable, electric currents. Dark bedrooms, with chargers pumping the glow of screens. Stale air, robotic noises, and the ping of another notification. Not us. We explored goldenrod fields just beyond the property line. We found soft stones to skip on the reservoir. We were on the hunt, always, for turtles, goose eggs, and signs of deer nearby. It’s true. We really did rake a pile of leaves to jump into before setting it on fire. We really did set traps, with long strings leading to steady fingers. We hid behind the bush to see what bird we could catch, only to set it free.
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