Tag Archives: Writing

Familiar Land

We hadn’t seen each other in the last two decades and had spoken maybe four or five times during the holidays when my parents and my sisters and I huddled around my mother’s old rotary phone to speak with relatives … Continue reading

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Endless Summer Days

Summer days felt endless, and we were unstoppable, resistant to the heat, sudden downpours, and hunger. We thrived on blackberries, sour grass, hose water, tag, and hide-n-seek. There were seven of us all together, my older sisters, Mira and Josephine, … Continue reading

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Morning Coffee

A few days before she arrived, my parents huddled in the living room, the kitchen, engaged in hushed conversations that left them rubbing their brows, exhaling, throwing their hands in the air. “What’s wrong?” I asked my mother on the … Continue reading

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Brown Sweater

On Saturday mornings, my mother dropped me off at the Drip N Dry with four baskets of laundry and six dollars worth of quarters stuffed in a red coin purse. She sat in the car while I lugged the baskets … Continue reading

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The Guardian

We lived on the edge of Sweetfield in a three-level house with ten acres of land separating us from our nearest neighbor. My great aunt, Jackie, preferred it this way, relishing in the quiet, the solitude. In the early days, … Continue reading

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Predictable

I slept for maybe five hours before my alarm blared, jarring me from a disturbing dream about a pizza delivery to a boardroom filled with men and women in suits, their heads on backwards. Enticed by the smell of coffee … Continue reading

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The Edge of Chaos

Yareli called and asked if I’d spend the day with her, go for a ride, eat, celebrate. “What are we celebrating?” I laughed. “I don’t know…life,” she said, punching the keys on her keyboard. “You’re at work?” “I’m getting ready … Continue reading

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Everything we Needed

It was our first summer in the house on Charleston Street, a three-bedroom townhome that had been painted the same color inside and out, a baby blue we thought was charming at first until it started to crack, exposing a … Continue reading

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Shadowy Formations

When I was thirteen, my grandmother moved in, along with her diaper-wearing dog, Fred, who barked at everything, including his own shadow. I gave up my bedroom and moved into my mother’s sewing room, decorating around patterned fabric, spools of … Continue reading

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The Most Vulnerable

The morning after the worst storm we’d had all year, the sun rose and clouds parted, illuminating damaged rooftops, toppled sheds, garbage scattered across muddy lawns, uprooted trees narrowly missing parked cars. Residents opened their doors to the aftermath, thankful … Continue reading

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