First-person narratives based on real human experiences. The moments that change us. The relationships that define us. The lessons we carry forward.
The first time I met Marcus Dell, he told me to go to hell. He was fourteen, a freshman, standing in the doorway of my... Read more
At 6:42 that Saturday evening, twenty two months after my brother’s last failed drug test and eleven days after I had paid four hundred dollars... Read more
Three hours before my son’s wedding, I stood behind a stack of folding chairs in the back corner of a barn I built with my... Read more
My son Victor pulled out Alma’s chair at the head of the table, the chair my wife sat in for forty-one years, and he seated... Read more
I am thirty-four weeks pregnant, and for three weeks running, my address at night has not been my own bed. It has been the back... Read more
At 2:14 in the afternoon on a Wednesday in April, I let myself into my mother’s house in Birch Hollow, Kentucky, with the spare key... Read more
My son Brad stood on the dock where I taught him to bait a hook and told his sister the cabin was “just sitting there... Read more
My mother Ives stood in my grandfather’s kitchen four days after his funeral and told me the cabin he built with his own hands in... Read more
I own a cabin on the shore of Alder Lake, three hours north of where the rest of my family lives, tucked into the birch... Read more
They came by a little after ten, Wesley and Shelby, with Eli buckled into the carrier and a diaper bag slung over my son’s shoulder.... Read more