First-person narratives based on real human experiences. The moments that change us. The relationships that define us. The lessons we carry forward.
Woodsmoke and wet pine hung so thick over my porch that evening I almost didn’t hear the phone ringing inside. Behind me, Sawtooth Ridge was... Read more
It was my twenty eight week checkup, forty minutes before my ultrasound appointment, when Deputy Trace Boone’s cruiser rolled up my gravel driveway instead of... Read more
My name is Arlene Whitcroft. I am seventy-eight years old, and I know what my neighbors say about my yard. I’ve known for two years.... Read more
I was up to my elbows in a customer’s water pump, the shop radio muttering out the noon grain report the way it does every... Read more
At 9:47 on the last Friday morning in May, I was standing at the end of the third row of folding chairs in the Cedar... Read more
“Grayson already has a mother. He doesn’t need two.” Meredith said that to me across the Easter ham, smiling the whole time so nobody else... 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
At 5:47 in the morning, forty-three minutes before boarding for a flight none of us would end up taking, I was standing at gate A19... Read more
Eleven weeks after I watched Lonnie Bratcher’s glove disappear into the jaws of Press Line Three, I sat in a Walmart parking lot in Bremmer,... Read more
The clock on the feed store’s brick face at the corner of Main and Route 9 read two forty seven that Thursday afternoon when I... Read more