by Paula Eglevsky
Kindness is a mark of faith, and whoever is not kind has no faith.
Moya Tetushka’s house had a parlor that was always cold. The curtains rustled and the shadows in the room changed from dark to darker throughout the day. There were odds and ends in it; mismatched furniture, peacock feathers, and plastic ferns that seemed alive. The family used the parlor for special occasions like birthdays, when they stood around cakes made of carrots, or holidays, when napkins were folded into tulips. Fanny remembered being at her aunt’s house during Easter. She didn’t mind the curtains moving on their own, or how the rug had tea stains. Auntie Moya kept caramels in the parlor and Fanny ate them, kneeling on a sofa that looked like a chair mushed into a bed. Continue reading