The Notes On The Backs Of Mama’s Cards
The recipe box is a green tin one with a hinged lid that does not close all the way anymore, and for four years it… Read more
The Christmas Group Chat That Brought Us Back
I am seventy-one years old and I have a flip phone in a drawer that I miss every single day. My granddaughter Mara talked me… Read more
The Recipe Card She Never Turned Over
For forty one years I lost to the same woman. Her name was Hollis Lundqvist, and every August, at the Cleabourne County Fair, in the… Read more
The Wrong Text That Brought Them Back
My phone is the newspaper now. Has been for eleven years, ever since the Tillerton Weekly folded and old Ferd Quackenbush packed his printing press… Read more
The Report Cards He Kept
Six weeks after my father’s funeral, I stood at the door of his workshop with the spare key in my hand, and I still could… Read more
The Hope Chest She Left Only To Me
For fifty-one years I believed I was the daughter my mother tolerated and my sister was the daughter she loved. I was so certain of… Read more