She looked around her pink and white bedroom. Pink: her favorite color. Her journal, also pink, with a picture of a pretty little girl on it, surrounded by flowers.
July 16, 2021
People call this “Glamping” because we are in cabins with indoor bathrooms, not tents and outhouses, but there is nothing “glam” about it.
July 14, 2021
By Katherine Flannery Dering I spent days getting up early and clicking on various websites, eager to get my…
July 12, 2021
The words “I don’t feel the same” were never said, I was just left with silence. For someone who constantly has music, silence is deafening.
July 11, 2021
Blake was four years older and he understood what that meant, recognized that being older was more a duty than an inconvenience.
July 9, 2021
Maybe it’s just the quarantine fifteen. I wouldn’t know because I haven’t weighed myself to get the actual number.
July 7, 2021
The crazy thing about COVID is that it upends the promise I made myself years ago to try to keep my anxieties and fears from infecting my kids.
July 5, 2021
If you want proof that evolution is dangerous, all you have to do is parent a teenager. Or teach one. Or just choose one out of the crowd and watch her move through the world.
July 3, 2021
Jeffrey froze, feeling his heart in his head. He could see from the corner of his eyehole his mother’s leg, her discarded stiletto heel on its side by the couch.
July 2, 2021
After four or five hits of pot on prom night, the hotel bed felt like the most amazing place I’d ever been.
June 30, 2021
I worship California. Despite the crushing traffic, the constant threat of “the big one,” and years-long droughts, she has been my purest and most enduring love.
June 28, 2021
Stories of parent/child relationships can be complex, and Emma’s Laugh, The Gift of Second Chances, is no exception.
June 27, 2021
As Barb puts the trays in the sink for the ice to melt, she notices something stuck to the bottom of one of the aluminum trays. It’s a white envelope, labeled clearly: Emergency Cigarette.
June 25, 2021
Three years ago, I was lying on abandoned elementary school bleachers staring at the sun. My sweaty skin burned against the unyielding metal, but I didn’t care.
June 22, 2021