GENRE: Women's Fiction
The house I grew up in had a sealed picture window instead of a front porch and wall-to-wall carpeting that always made me itch. When I arrived home to the suburbs for break, I couldn’t stand going inside so I headed to the backyard and pitched my little blue tent. It hadn’t been unfolded since last summer on the organic farm where I’d worked upstate. Kicking off my sneakers, I crawled inside to see if it still held any trace of mountain air and meadow grass. But no, the tent just reeked of wool sweaters from being jammed into my closet at Hampshire all year.