That spring, after a winter-long surge of solar flares disturbed Earth’s rotation, throwing calendars out of whack, Easter fell on a Tuesday. And my mother, months ahead of her oncologist’s calculations, began to rapidly decline.

“Fetch my wig,” she said from beneath her comforter. “God won’t recognize me like this.”

Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. Visit BobThurber.net.