My #sundaysentence, from Eleanor Henderson’s TEN THOUSAND SAINTS

Ugh. I hate that I’ve been too busy to post anything these past months. So many beautiful things to write about, and they’re all just flying past, lightning speed. There were my students’ research papers in the Metro Line 2 class last term (to wit: a Jonathan Swift-like modest proposal that the drag queen is the ideal French citizen and Marianne should be replaced by Mario-annes), Dana Spiotta‘s gorgeous novel EAT THE DOCUMENT, and my two-year-old daughter’s amazing feat in the bathtub on Thursday evening: soft foam letters of her name stuck to the side of the tubby, she pointed to each and spelled it clearly, without hesitation: A-U-D-R-E-Y. I was flabbergasted. All I could to was laugh in delight and say, “yep, kiddo, that’s you’re name, alright!”

But I’ll be guest posting on John Warner’s Inside Higher Ed “Just Visiting” blog a few times this term, and I’ll have an interview with David James Poissant (author of the forthcoming short story collection THE HEAVEN OF ANIMALS) over at Fiction Writers Review. And for this snowy, cold, Sunday morning, as part of David Abrams’ Sunday Sentence Project (Simply put, the best sentence[s] I’ve read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary”), I offer this beauty from Eleanor Henderson‘s TEN THOUSAND SAINTS:

“”Bursts of red and gold flowered above them, petals of color fading and falling with the snow, and Teddy went up there.”