A Scar That Burns by April McCloud

A Scar That Burns by April McCloud

A Scar That Burns by April McCloud FollowFollowFollow Photo by Hannah Grace via Unsplash The thing I remember most about dying, is how much it burns. Gasping for air, returning to life, the pain is exquisite. Everything else is burned away as the heat and fire...
Why Motherhood by Shay Galloway

Why Motherhood by Shay Galloway

Why Motherhood by Shay Galloway FollowFollowFollow My mother did not want seven children. She birthed me at the age of seventeen, her high school diploma incomplete, her own mother slowly dying. I imagine the discovery of my conception was not one of joy and wonder,...
We Are Doing Our Best by Eileen Cunniffe

We Are Doing Our Best by Eileen Cunniffe

We Are Doing Our Best by Eileen Cunniffe FollowFollowFollow We are everywhere, the middle-aged, aging daughters and sons. Watch us folding walkers and wheelchairs into trunks, and then unfolding them again in handicapped spaces or next to sidewalk cutouts. Watch us as...
Chicken Feet by Andreea Ceplinschi

Chicken Feet by Andreea Ceplinschi

Chicken Feet by Andreea Ceplinschi FollowFollowFollow Alexandru & Andreea ca. 1987, photo from author’s family archives I could only love you the same way our mother loved chicken feet.  We weren’t rich, but our grandparents raised chickens and mother could make...
Anticipatory Grief by Debbi Welch

Anticipatory Grief by Debbi Welch

Anticipatory Grief by Debbi Welch FollowFollowFollow Isn’t good old-fashioned grief enough? Loss, tears, the flooding of memories? I’ve grieved and am still grieving my mother, father, stepfather, and brother, as well as many other relatives and dear friends. I’ve sat...
Sonata by Julie Lockhart

Sonata by Julie Lockhart

Sonata by Julie Lockhart FollowFollowFollow C-sharp (#): Compositions in a minor scale, such as Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata in C# Minor,” can evoke a misty evening of sad contemplation, moody ruminations, even grief. When Michael lived with me before we married, I...
Grandma Helen by Stacy Alderman

Grandma Helen by Stacy Alderman

Grandma Helen by Stacy Alderman FollowFollowFollow The only picture I’d ever seen of my maternal grandmother was her wedding portrait. Its muted hues, her close-lipped smile, the bundle of blooms in her hands, were spread in canvas across a 10×12 frame, and this...

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