Everything within me died as my relationship ended. I was afraid I would not be able to leave him. I was afraid I had no value as a person, as…
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I was 17 when I first heard Liz Phair in the backseat of a boy’s car with my much cooler best friend. We were aimlessly driving around when the boy…
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* * * There is a little bird, I don’t remember the name of him, but he skims right over the surface of the ocean. It must be frightening out…
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July, 1967: I am twenty-four years old; my brother is twenty-six. My wife and I are spending a week in California, a break in the intensity of my last year…
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Sometimes he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. Not particularly hungry, sometimes not even wet or poopy. I can identify the times when there is nothing obviously…
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I feel like there’s something you need me to say. As if you’ve been waiting years to hear the words only I can speak. Or, maybe this specific combination of…
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image: Radiation by Rhonda Fishman * Freddy had wired a radio in the bathroom so that whenever Freddy turned on the light, he had music. He stood in front of…
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In 1990, when Halley’s comet was 1.2 billion miles from the sun, an eight-year-old boy heard a song called “Halley Came to Jackson” on a new CD on his parents’…
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Why does the sun go on shining? Why does the sea rush to shore? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? Cause you don’t love me anymore. (Skeeter…
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Creative Nonfiction / EssayIntrospectionMusicVariations on a Theme: I almost lost my calloused skin
editor’s note: After a long hiatus, Variations on a Theme is returning with quite a fitting story. We almost lost our calloused skin on our proverbial musician’s fingertips but are…
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When I was a fifteen, my family had a large unshaded backyard, a self-propelled gas lawnmower, and no men. The mower was an old LawnBoy: greasy and green, with a…
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Hunched over shouldering my duffle, just home from college, my dad stops me on the sidewalk. “You look like someone I … could have a deep conversation with,” he stutters,…
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The sun reveals the mountains one by one in shades of smoke and slate and coffee grounds. Then it gets to work on their ancient contours, lighting up the spaces…
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photo by Unsplash user Jesse Borovnica I hate flying. I hate the window seat, the middle one, and prefer the aisle if given a choice. I was particularly anxious for…
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