UNSENT LETTER – By Holley Hyler
UNSENT LETTERBy Holley Hyler
My Love,It is a sunny afternoon in late summer, and the world is alive with color that is doing its damnedest to chip away at my melancholy shield. Below me is...
PARENTING REDUX – By Pam Munter
PARENTING REDUXBy Pam Munter
How old was I when I realized I was the family’s black sheep? As long as I can remember, I knew I could not trust my parents with my real self....
A INSIGNIFICÂNCIA DE SER UMA COISA – Rita de Kasia A. Amaral
A INSIGNIFICÂNCIA DE SER UMA COISARita de Kasia A. Amaral
Eu sou uma coisa. Ou eu fui uma coisa? Acho que antes eu era uma coisa e agora sou outra. Como tantas coisas nesse universo...
UNDERWORLDS APART: A STORY FOR AILIE – By Mindy Watson
UNDERWORLDS APART: A STORY FOR AILIEBy Mindy Watson
My Ailie,Newly three years old, you’re a different flower bud to me every day: one day fierce tiger lily, knocking down boys with a resounding “HIYA!”; one...
ABOUT FOOD – By Michelle Cacho-Negrete
ABOUT FOODBy Michelle Cacho-Negrete
My mother loved food but she hated cooking either because she wasn't good at it or wasn't good at it because she hated it. Her oatmeal was lumpy, meat too well...
MY FATHER – By Paul Petruccelli
MY FATHERBy Paul Petruccelli
At 5:30 a.m., the sun has not quite begun its ascent behind my sister’s house, on the other side of the golf course she could never afford to join. It is...
BEAT ON: A MEDITATION ON VIOLENCE, TEACHING, & PAPER MAKING, by Nika Cavat
BEAT ONA Meditation on Violence,Teaching, & Paper MakingBy Nika CavatIn this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they...
COFFEE AND PRAYERS, by Caleb Dros
COFFEE AND PRAYERSBy Caleb Dros
I didn’t know it back then, not until I thought about it, that something as simple as coffee and prayers on those lazy Saturday mornings would end up meaning to...
I AM A HILLWALKER By David McVey
I AM A HILLWALKERBy David McVey I climbed my first Munro in 1976 but I didn’t know, then, that it was a Munro.Every year, in September, there used to be a mass sponsored walk from Rowardennan, on...
IN THE INKY WHORL OF NIGHT By Chella Courington
IN THE INKY WHORL OF NIGHTBy Chella Courington
Lying in darkness next to my snoring husband, I begin to feel my breasts—a practice I usually reserve for daylight. But I suffer from travel fatigue after...