I worked in father’s bakery. Peeled potatoes for potato bread. Melted dark chocolate. Washed copper pots and whisks and baking sheets. Swept wide-plank oak floors.
Guest Author Sonya Ward writes about her childhood days in Calcutta, India in the early forties.
My mother Magda has me fitted at the seamstress. Die Schneiderin measures my waist, the length of my arm. The hemline. Buttons. Belt. “White for a First Communion dress. And a short-sleeved summer dress.”
It was early morning and still dark. The wind was at gale force and howling. She was testy today and grabbed the power lines wrapping them around a tree at the head of the driveway.
Amia Moore gives us an honest and compelling view of how her family overcomes grief and finds the peace and strength to move forward in the shadows of a deep loss.
Have you ever heard the sound of a vehicle approaching and known instantly who it was? It was one of the hottest mornings I had experienced in the summer months of July in a very long time, and the nervousness, anxiety and excitement filled only my being it seemed, because the world outside was calm. […]
Susan Ivory, much to her husband’s pleasure, is seduced by technology
Guest author Drew Sager’s creative writing describes the personal experience in picking yourself up off the floor of mediocrity.
The discovery of changes to our physical appearance can lead to depression, but guest author Sylva Ifedigbo shows his humorous acceptance of one such discovery.
An addict finds the eye of the storm in a local park and it changes everything.