Jennifer Gay Summers Mothers Come First My husband and I stood in a hospital corridor, dressed in pink surgical scrubs, waiting to see our baby born. After six long years of miscarriages, in-vitro procedures, an adoption agency, and private…
Browsing: Prose
Elsie Wu Mun Yuet Day I hear Dennis cry. I hear feet shuffling hurriedly. A door opens. His cry is loud, then he’s soothed to silence by the warmth of his mother’s full breast. Rubbing my eyes to clearly…
Kerry Neville The Last Peach The world is about to end and I worry about my saggy, crepey skin, the way it hangs loose and fast when I push back into downward dog. I stare at my legs…
Jeanne-Marie Fleming Couldn’t Keep Her My husband leaned against the door frame, hung his head and told our son, Colin, “Mommy is mean; she doesn’t like dogs.” “Dear Easter Bunny,” Colin wrote in third-grade cursive, “Can you please bring…
Kate Neuman Housecleaning, 2020 I sat in my son’s room yesterday afternoon, in this heat-wave, with his air conditioner blasting, watching as he went through the ages of his life’s detritus that have found their way into his…
Nicole Piasecki Back To Center My six-year old son, J asks me if we can make pancakes before school. He’s overslept, and we don’t have time for pouring, cracking, whisking, grilling, and eating. It is a cereal-or- yogurt morning.…
Candace Chambliss It Hurts When you spend the weekend at your dad’s house, playing cards, eating McDonalds, and horseback riding and you return to your mother and happily announce that you want to live with daddy and she scoops…
Barbara Henning Selections from Girlfriend Girlfriend is a collection of poetic prose short-shorts about my relationships with girl and women friends from childhood through my present elder years. When I showed my esteemed yoga teacher Genny Kapuler what…
Anjali Vaidya A Trip to the Aquarium My five-year-old has always had a mind of her own. And by always I really do mean that; she’s been loudly expressing her own opinions since the time, as a fetus, when…
Alisa Childress To Mom of Eight Years Ago, I often wonder what you would think of yourself now. Of you have become. You are almost unrecognizable. You have always been the woman who took pride in her appearance. You never…