Celebrate by Kristen MacKenzie

Celebrate by Kristen MacKenzie

I don’t celebrate holidays. “I celebrate every day,” I say if anyone asks. Mostly, I just prefer to avoid crowds and social pressure. My home reflects this choice for solitude and quiet. I live at the end of a gravel road where all but one or two of the houses I pass...
Friendly Words by Carol Roan

Friendly Words by Carol Roan

  My mother is smashing my Jack-in-the-box with a broom. I know not to cry. Toys and games are the work of the Devil. She tells me to find all of Jack’s pieces. She puts them in the can for the garbage man. * My aunt and uncle are here. My mother grows a black...
Epiphany

Epiphany

Sometime after the heat of singlehandedly dissolving the heart of the iceberg and before the dream of a black man hit by a train in an all-white city, epiphany let herself enter through my midnight window, settled on my windowsill, welcome and messy as an unexpected...
Builder by Kristen MacKenzie

Builder by Kristen MacKenzie

  Photo Credit: www.archdavisdesigns.com   Dad was more storyteller than mechanic, leaving his wartime occupation as soon as his tour ended. He was a Bible salesman when he met Mom, but before I was in preschool, my parents made a choice that was unusual for...

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