Every night at 3:33 a.m., she heard the familiar voice and laughter. “Come play.” She thought it was a recurring dream about her childhood memories filled with fireflies and sidewalk chalk. She sat up in bed and saw the loose floorboard jiggling to break free again. “Are you finally ready?” She pried open the board. She reached down into the darkness. A warm hand grasped hers. The world flipped. She was six again, barefoo...

June 1938 Papio Creek’s crystal clear water moved steadily under the Nebraska midday sun, a gentle wind skimming the surface. The Roma’s brightly painted wagons rolled along the trail and settled into the soft prairie grass near the banks. Buckets and spare harnesses clanked against the wagons’ heavy wooden sides. They stopped in a line along the creek bank. The Roma had made this stretch of land near the Papio their summ...

They gather in the grooves, soft and unseen, A chorus of echoes where thoughts have been. A flicker, a murmur, a doubtful refrain, A whisper of truth, beneath the strain. One hums of longing, of futures untold, Another recalls the missteps of growing old. Change the world!—Or get back on track! Feed your ambition!—Or maybe have a snack? You're a genius!—You haven't a clue! Everything's fine!—You're doomed, you're through!...