Prose

Sophie Rhem Am I A Mother I Am 19 days. 456 hours. 27,360 minutes. 1,641,600 seconds. None of them are simple numbers, easily divisible and sorted into categories. They are complex. Confusing. Difficult for my muddled brain to make…

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Onita Morgan Edwards Clean House I ignored my husband’s wishes by taking in foster children after he died. I wanted to save the world, and while my life wasn’t always rosy, I was obviously in better shape than some…

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Janet Garber Baby Love Wet babykisses circle my face, delicious, as in the morning’s almost-rain I walk the track. Through my cottonball ears I hear the swoosh of cars and trucks and a big fire engine chugging its way home.…

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Kelly Bargabos   All There Is The receptionist who collects the tickets unlocks the front door. The narrow hallway fills up. The line is organized and orderly, for the most part. They only get rowdy when someone takes too…

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Sarah W. Bartlett Coming Home “Where we want to be is where we ought to live” – SWB, summer 1996 Apparently, I’ve been searching for a sense of home since childhood. In the great woods behind our…

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Joanna Bettelheim Our Ex, Carol My father married my mother, whose name is Carolyn. After they divorced, he dated Carol. My mother bought a house in an adjacent neighborhood, keeping me in the same school district. My new bedroom…

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