I think of the children who will never know, intuitively, that a flower is a plant’s way of making love, or what silence sounds like, or that trees breathe out what we breathe in.
Subscribe and Save up to 55%
Meghan Wynne teaches English at Muskingum College and lives in the tiny town of New Concord, Ohio, where astronaut John Glenn was raised. (“It’s our only claim to fame,” she says, “and we never let anybody forget it.”) Her fiction has appeared in StoryQuarterly, and she is at work on a novel.
It was just my mother’s luck: Fred left, and then she couldn’t get her contraceptive sponge out. She had forgotten about it through the long night, as she and Fred had fought and car headlights had panned across my bedroom walls.