The scent of my dead grandmother drifts past me, luring me home. I return willingly to her, following the rosewater scent of my childhood. Like last summer’s relentless rains driven by the early winds of a devastating hurricane, memories long buried flood inside my studio. Too late to forget. Regrets.
A short story and creative nonfiction writer born in Pennsylvania, Lilian resides on the west coast of Florida. After living three decades in California, she trekked back east in 2003 to a state where the sun shines brutally hot most of the year. An inveterate wanderer, former weekly journalist and technical writer, Lilian dreams of moving to points unknown. While she works on a memoir series grounded in her discovery of her grandmother’s poems written during the years 1899 – 1931, she writes flash fiction and 50-word stories.
