Early April, the cruelest of months, over 20 years ago… On the night my daughter—my only daughter—thought       (“No, I didn’t think it, I saw it.”) she saw Emily Dickinson’s ghost—white dress and all— was the last time she wanted to get into bed with me to protect her, to protect her from the … Continue reading The Night My Daughter Saw Emily Dickinson’s Ghost, White Dress and All