She enrolled in St. Joseph’s that summer, her first time away from home.
She didn’t grow up too far away – she went to Merion Mercy – but college is about the time, not necessarily the place, and so, for her, Sourin Hall could have just as well been about a million miles away.
“I was the apple of my father’s eye,” she wrote me once, which either showed her complete lack of personal phrasing or was a better characterization than even a thousand poets working a thousand years could develop.
This is a short excerpt. To read the rest of this piece and other writing, go here.