K.M. Cookie

Decades ago, I was twenty years old with $500 in my pocket and a decision to make. I didn't have a plan. I had a map. I closed my eyes, picked a spot, and landed in Long Beach, California. I never looked back. Until this week. Coming home to Michigan felt like turning a page I'd forgotten was still in the book. Family. Old friends. The particular quality of Midwestern air that doesn't exist anywhere else. And a room full of people at D&K Books, every seat filled, who showed up for me, for the...

The morning of the memorial, I noticed the hummingbird nest on my porch was empty. The two tiny birds I had been watching — fragile, determined, growing a little bolder each day — had flown. Just like that. Off to build their own nests, their own lives. I stood there for a moment in my black dress, a fuschia flower in my pony tail — one that had belonged to my mother — and I thought: this is the day in a nutshell, isn't it? Inside the church, jasmine blooms mingled with frankincense rising...

I miss busy signals. Not because I want to go back — I don't. But there was something beautifully honest about a busy signal. It meant: someone is here, and they are fully present with someone else. No multitasking. No notifications. Just one conversation at a time. I've watched the whole parade go by. Birth of the Internet with the promise things will be easier. Fax machines. Modems that screamed at you before they connected. Pagers. Cell phones so enormous people literally carried them in...