From the Lake to the Sea by Ian Forth
I’m six years old, pale and thin. A French doctor had prescribed a daily sip of red wine.
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EGYPT STREET, 1950s by Sophia Kouidou-Giles
From the time that I was five years old, my father, then in his mid-forties, brought me occasionally to “the store” as he called it.
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Claim Jumpers by Dana Lee Stewart Quinney
As a little girl, I was fascinated by tales of the old West. I’d sit at my grandparents’ feet for hours, listening.
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Elderberry Wine and Jack Daniels by Edie Williams
Memory is a winding road removed from maps. When I was a young girl, it was an old country lane leading to pastureland for our horses
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A Bushel and a Peck by Lisa Brodsky
My Baba’s house smelled like borscht and boiled cabbage for holopchi, traditional dishes from the “old country.” Scents that made me cry...
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Childhood in the Redwoods by Robert W. Norris
In this childhood, there is nothing more mysterious, wonderful, and ominous than the forest.
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New York New Years by James Bloom
On New Year's Eve and Morn from 1970 to 1974, I was never home before dawn.
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Icarus by Phil Cummins
Of course, we’d never heard of sunblock or sunscreen at the time. Back then it was marketed to grown-ups as suntan oil...
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Lost by Rod Madocks
It happened in 1964 when I was twelve years old near the small town of Fort Roseberry in the country now called Zambia
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Raised by my Father by Karen Hill Anton
I was nineteen and in Europe when the tenement apartment I’d grown up in burned down.
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City of Seven Hills by Chris Parent
We open the door to my mother’s car, an Audi 5000, perched precariously on the side of one of Yonkers’ steep hills
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Sowing Seeds in Fields of Dreams by Sara Etgen Baker
We stood outside the dilapidated picket fence and shaded our eyes, casting our gazes across the grassy pasture of old man Buhler’s farmland.
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Climbing Jacob's Ladder by Michael De Rosa
Climbing Jacob's Ladder is a half-forgotten idiom for the ascent to heaven or a path out of adversity.
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Ghosts by Glen Sibley
We didn’t fit in where I grew up. Unlike all our neighbours, my parents were cash poor and worked in manual jobs.
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Granny in my Backyard by Brian Rush McDonald
Our home was in a rural area on seven acres of land, one acre of it cleared for our yard.
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Cast Out of the Boys’ Club by Susan Evans
You’re not in the club anymore,” Jimmy decreed on the first day of fifth grade. Surely, he was joking. He had to be joking.
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Walks with my Father by Michael de Rosa
With my younger sister always vying for our parents’ attention and affection, the walks I took with my father to visit friends and customers
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lil sis & BIG BRO by Michael De Rosa
My sister, Nancy, was my first playmate and is my oldest friend. We are the only ones left that remember us as children.
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At the Gates of Hell and of Heaven by Karen Hunt
I decided early on that the world was a terrible place. Oh yes, it was beautiful, marvelous and mysterious, but it was also terrible.
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