Published by Moonpark Review

We get just one shot so we have to be right. And we have to agree.
I can’t argue that the 1970s was a pretty decade. Too much papier maché, paisley, macramé. Every woman I knew took a class in macramé. And it wasn’t a peaceful time. Kent State. Vietnam. Watergate.
He’ll say it should be the ’60s because life—for us, anyway—was easy, then. We were so young, our lives so small. That’s when we were happiest. We were but it’s because we were blind.

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