Coming Through with the Balloons by Kirsten Wasson
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Suffocated by small town life, weary of the frozen tundra of Ithaca, New York winters, I took trips down to Manhattan as often as I...
The Senior Dogs' Saga Holiday by Auriel Roe
I have frequently heard it said that some parents flounder when their children leave home and redirect their affection to dogs.
Fat in Paris by Bull Garlington
I am a large man. Think of Jack Black if he was the unholy love child of Fred Flintstone and Philip Seymour Hoffman. In America, I blend...
Residence by Katharine Harvey
Some of my Mom’s belongings migrated to the new place and as years passed, I discovered what she left behind.
Mom's Trump Card by Rick Whitaker
I asked my mom why Butch despised me--was it just because I was gay? No, Mom said, there’s more to it than that
Floodwater by Deborah Nash Ott
Just before the big flood of 1972 in Rochester, New York, in the wake of Hurricane Agnus, my father moved out of our house for good.
Walking the Dog by Tim Atkinson
I have named my pain and called it ‘dog’ —Friedrich Nietszche, The Gay Science
One Word by Keith McGreggor
Michele had grown increasingly disruptive and violent throughout August. Whatever truce we’d achieved with her medication was clearly over.
Christmas, Elsewhere by Heather Gatley
It was 1963. A blizzard blew across the grass outside the married quarters where we lived in RAF St Athan.
Aunt Jean by Tracy Kauffman Wood
Aunt Jean would read popular psychology books on the #50 trolley as it bounced down Fourth Street in fits and starts toward Passyunk Avenue.
Adventures in the B Movie Trade by Brian Trenchard-Smith
The source of the Actor’s anxiety arrives on the set, his partner in the scene, a male with dangling testicles each the size of grapefruit.
The Date & The Elephant by Penny Pepper
I look at this clean-shaven man with dark eyes and a sharp jaw. He’s Australian and talks about my dating profile.
Biden in the Elevator, Trump in the Bar
Biden immediately dropped his briefcase and contorted himself into a wrestler’s crouch, hands in front ready to strike.
Flat Caps and Cowgirl Hats by Stevyn Colgan
I’m fifty-nine years old. That’s eight years older than my Dad ever got to be. When I look at photographs of him, all I see is an older man.
Luxor Boxing Girls by KH Mezek
About a year ago, I had the pleasure of forming the first ever girls boxing club in Luxor. It was somewhat revolutionary, no exaggeration.
Disaster Parenting by Robert Kerbeck
I wonder how my teenage son, Davis, will remember me after I’m gone. Perhaps it’s a thought in the minds of many parents in these COVID-19 d
Father by Liane U’Prichard
Tonight I rewatch a video my son posted some time ago, of him teaching his five year old to weave on a pretty complicated loom. The patient
Walking to Oseira by James Bloom
I walked the main Camino de Santiago, known as the Camino Frances, in portions lasting around a week each, as my time and energy permitted
Island Fever by Lawrence Morgan
Grenada, post-invasion, 1984. Twelve degrees latitude. Thirty degrees centigrade and humid.
I am Chapter Twelve by Pete Langman
‘I’m writing a book,’ she said. Not a great surprise considering that her online dating profile stated clearly that she was a writer.
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