First-person narratives based on real human experiences. The moments that change us. The relationships that define us. The lessons we carry forward.
At 9:47 on a Tuesday morning in April, I sat at the petitioner’s table in the Corder County Family Courthouse, eight months pregnant, signing my... Read more
Four hundred thirty one thousand dollars. That is what my scheduling model saved Prairie Grain Cooperative in its first full harvest season, and Brock Sedlak... Read more
Chad Rensler stood in my half-poured driveway, folded my deposit check into his shirt pocket, and told me that if I did not like how... Read more
The first thing I noticed about Sterling was his handshake. Forty-one years of teaching seventh grade had made me a connoisseur of handshakes. You learn... Read more
I had six hundred and twelve dollars in the Ashgrove Small Engine and Repair operating account on the Tuesday morning a woman from Cutter Parts... Read more
At 5:47 p.m., thirteen minutes before my son’s engagement party officially began, a woman in a headset named Portia looked at my father’s wheelchair, then... Read more
At 10:03 that Thursday morning, six weeks into speech therapy after my stroke, I finally got the sentence out clean enough for my nephew Trevor... Read more
The rain in Coldbrook doesn’t fall so much as it arrives, all at once, like it has somewhere else to be and Missouri is only... Read more
The first time Hatch’s crew drove onto our property, I was out by the old pump house checking the water line. I heard the truck... Read more
The clock above the pie case at the Copper Kettle read eleven forty when Cassidy Boone set her briefcase on my counter, pulled out six... Read more