Parenting from Under the Tarp

I’m 45 now, and for as long as I can remember, going on thirty, maybe thirty-five years, I’ve fallen asleep to the hum of a box fan and the sound of thunderstorms. Sometimes real, usually recorded. I’ve traced that habit back to a single memory from when I was five or six. Maybe younger. It happened at Grandma Wanda’s house in Independence, Missouri.

She…