My life is measured out by coffee spoons.
An excerpt from an unpublished memoir, The Year of Everything by Erica Murdoch.
That night, I sat by the riverbank with Em. She slapped at the mosquitoes buzzing around her ankles. A fish jumped in the middle of the river, and a mopoke hooted its mournful cry. Our hurricane lamp was a beacon for moths. Our warm champagne tasted silky smooth and sweet in the darkness as we toasted in 1985.
Continue reading “Mum”The first time I cook a turkey is a week before my mother dies.
On New Year’s Eve, I sit on the bank of the Murrumbidgee River with my friend, Em. She slaps and curses at the mosquitoes buzzing around her ankles. A fish jumps in the middle of the river and a mopoke hoots its mournful cry. Our hurricane lamp is a beacon for moths. Our warm champagne tastes silky smooth and sweet in the darkness as we toast in 1985. Continue reading “Mum”
The Pelvic Floor Coffee Club 