My mom forgets that she lives in China. “I live in Michigan.” she tells me during our Skype chats, the South China Sea almost visible from the window behind her. I search her face for the woman I use to know. Her eyes are sometimes harried, frenzied by imagined...
By Holly Day I feel the wings flutter under my skin as I tell them about my childhood, about how things were before I had children of my own. I hint at the type of insect I was make it more beautiful—I was a butterfly, a damselfly a fluorescent leaf-hopper, something...
By Katie Vagnino This is what happens when you sign up for a yoga class online and don’t read the fine print. It is an honest mistake, one I realize the moment I enter the studio and am confronted with posters of women smiling blissfully, their hands delicately...
By Anne Fox Like Simone de Beauvoir, I have compared housework to the torture of Sisyphus. Yet once in a while, when an afternoon turns golden, I remember the outcome of an irresistible impulse. Despite my many years of kinship with a clothes dryer, long...
