The Speckled Record

Two years ago I was drifting in the neighbors’ pool. Texas was crisping under 60+ days of 100+ sun. I was still feeling the shock of leaving Armenia, and I was nurturing my emotional whiplash with early morning gym time and all-afternoon floats. I had just been interviewed for an exciting job opportunity in Minneapolis, but that dream seemed as fuzzy as the one where I lived for two years in a tiny Armenian town. I haven’t written for two years. Partly I haven’t written because my departure from Armenia overwhelmed me. Partly I haven’t written because now, after taking…