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 Voicemail My Sister Forgot She Left
I had flour to my elbows and a tray of biscuits going into the oven at six in the morning on a Saturday, getting an… Read more
The Quilts She Donated From My Hospital Bed
Four dollars is what a thrift store paid out in trade credit for my mother’s wedding quilt, the one my daughter-in-law Shaylene decided was clutter… Read more
The Album That Proved My Mother Was There
I was scraping cold potato salad off a paper plate into the trash can behind the fairgrounds pavilion, three weeks out from twelve straight nights… Read more
The Contact List They Erased Me From
I was up to my elbows in a customer’s water pump, the shop radio muttering out the noon grain report the way it does every… Read more
The Inspection Report That Cleared My Name
Eleven weeks after I watched Lonnie Bratcher’s glove disappear into the jaws of Press Line Three, I sat in a Walmart parking lot in Bremmer,… Read more