Stories about neighbors, small towns and strangers who show up.
The truck died on the Ferguson road two miles past the grain elevator, in the kind of July heat that makes the air over the... Read more
The envelope was waiting under the sugar caddy again, the way it had been waiting every Friday morning for almost a year, and this time... Read more
For twelve years running, Vernon Stroud beat my pie by exactly one point. Not two. Not five. One. Ninety nine to my ninety eight, year... Read more
For three years I pedaled a rusted bicycle past the same gate guard at the Novinger coal camp with a sack of sand riding in... Read more
My son came home soaked to the bone on a Tuesday in October, and I did not understand yet that the rain on his jacket... Read more
Every Tuesday for the last three years, I have gotten up, put on real clothes, done my hair, and driven the mile and a half... Read more
The Tree By The Door The first of it was a quarter of venison in the crotch of the hickory by my door, and I... Read more
The Longest Six Months I have lived in Larkspur, Texas my whole life, and until last spring the biggest thing that had ever happened to... Read more
The Table Nobody Looked At Every fundraiser has two tables. There is the one with the ribbon and the spotlight, where the silent auction sheets... Read more
I buried my dignity in small pieces over eight months of scrubbing another family’s kitchen floor, and I got every single piece of it back... Read more