My Family Tried to Move Into My Mountain House Without Asking

the scrape of boxes, the children laughing. The knocking started when they realized I was not opening the door. My mother’s voice, alternately cajoling and commanding. Lydia’s voice, sharp with the specific frustration of someone who expected to have won by now. My father’s voice, quieter and heavier, telling me not to do something we would all regret.continue reading …