The Flower Shop She Locked Me Out Of
At 8:15 that Monday morning, four days after my last chemo infusion, I stood on the sidewalk outside Depot Blooms with my key in a… Read more
The Seat They Gave Away
For three stunned heartbeats I stood perfectly still in the middle of Sioux Falls Regional Airport, surrounded by rolling suitcases, burnt gate-counter coffee, and strangers… Read more
The Chair My Nephew Carried In
Nineteen days before Thanksgiving, my phone rang while I was scrubbing a casserole dish that didn’t need scrubbing anymore, just something to keep my hands… Read more
The Seat at the Head Table
For forty-one years I cut hair in the front room of my house on Sorrel Street, in a town in central Nebraska so small the… Read more
The School Clothes I Bought Every August
Every August since my divorce, on a night I never tell anyone about in advance, I have gone through the clearance racks at the discount… Read more
The Ring They Said I Pawned
“Ask Wanda where Mama’s ring went. She knows her way to a pawn counter.” My brother Vance said that at our mother’s funeral lunch, in… Read more
