Alisha Goldblatt Tracing the Faultlines We can’t choose our family, of course, nor is the warmth and reliability of…
Browsing: prose
Tatiana Johnson Boria Saturn After each visit to your grandmother’s group home, over the past two decades, I’ve learned…
Tamara J. Madison Dispatch My mother suffered Beauty, having so much of it, being sought after, suitors lined and…
Lisa Moak Bonding With Stone My mother was a go-go dancer, or so I was told. I never met…
Elizabeth H. Winkler Love Languages My mother irons my pillowcases, smoothing their wrinkles into sharp edges—crisp. There is a…
Jen Bryant Lessons My son hunches over a math worksheet, brow furrowed in concentration. He solves an addition problem…
Nettie Reynolds Crossing the Canyon In June 2011, a month after my divorce was finalized, I packed up the…
Melissa Fraterrigo Mother-Daughter Osmosis Last week, my daughter Eva and I walked to the neighborhood swimming pool a few…
Jennifer Harris One Hundred and Forty-One Miles I was walking up 19th Street in Dupont Circle listening to Sinead…
Amy Gallo Ryan Water’s Edge Fifteen fingers worm through mine, burrowing and squirming as they pull hard for leverage.…