First-person narratives based on real human experiences. The moments that change us. The relationships that define us. The lessons we carry forward.
At 4:52 that Tuesday afternoon, three weeks after we buried my Aunt Reba, my cousin Corabeth let out a sound from the back of her... Read more
My granddaughter Piper had it halfway into the trunk of Pearl Hutchins’s church van before I even knew what was happening. Fifty-two years of my... Read more
For ten years I lost the Harlow County autumn scarecrow contest to the same man, and for ten years I told anybody who would hold... Read more
I have priced a lot of things wrong in my life, but nothing like the morning I stood in the basement of Grace Community Church... Read more
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 first Tuesday my husband ironed his own shirt, I should have known something was wrong. Royce has not touched an iron in forty years... Read more
The first time I stood up in front of that room, I was not trying to save anything. I was seventy-one years old, eleven months... Read more
For thirty eight years I fixed other people’s furnaces, and the week I finally retired I went out and spent nine hundred dollars on the... Read more
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
There was a plaster gnome standing in the middle of my peony bed with a chip out of his pointed hat and a grin like... Read more