Issue 16.3 – Nonfiction

It’s football season again. I love football. Born and raised. Something about how the air inside a stadium suspends everyone’s voices while the quarterback, the quintessential warrior, calls out those mysterious numbers just before the ball is snapped along the line of scrimmage. “Twenty-four! Forty-eight! Sixty-one. Hut!” A prophecy from Zeus himself, his baritone voice…

Issue 15.4 – Nonfiction

I was more interested in going to the homecoming dance than I was in Brad, the senior who invited me.  It was my first year of high school, tenth grade, and Brad was a good-looking trumpet player who sat first chair.  I had a perfect view of him from my vantage point in the percussion…

Issue 15.3 – Nonfiction

I volunteered at the Jewish Family Service for many years visiting lonely elderly people who could no longer get out.   When they called me for Marge they were looking for someone who liked to play Scrabble because Marge needed a partner.  I was an English teacher, so it looked like a good fit.  I could…

Issue 14.4 – Nonfiction

While waiting in the car line to pick up my daughters from school on Friday, an idea pops into my head: I will treat them to after-school cookies from the nearby bakery. I debate with myself about this thought, because I’m in a cycle of frugality, feeling like I contribute little, only consume, being the…

Issue 14.3 – Nonfiction

There are three ways in which I imagine my Grandma W’s life played out.  They are all just imaginary, because a large portion of her life remains unknown to me.  I suspect somebody knows about her missing years, but I don’t, and I don’t want to push for details should the answer be one of…

Issue 14.1 – Nonfiction

He was coming down the street toward me. Today. When I was going to my physiotherapist’s office for treatment, after an operation. Years ago, I would have broken into a sweat at the sight of him, wondering what to say. Or not say. This time, he recognized me, flagging me down, and I, with an…

Issue 13.4 – Nonfiction

I am seeking small mercies, this word that pushes the breath out slowly and pulls at the corners of your mouth like stay or sleep. When I imagine my mother through the eyes of the policeman who brought her into the station on a Friday afternoon, I invent small mercies between them. I think of…

Issue 13.3 – Nonfiction

“Are you sure they’re not here in your room?” I called at a mock-whisper. “I’m sure!” Marvin followed me into the room, the door creaking behind him. “It’ll be a big wad. It’s a lot of keys. I looked in every drawer, but maybe your eyes are better.” He stood over me, absentmindedly wringing his…

Issue 13.2 – Nonfiction

As I stared at the dark gray wall before me, I imagined this home’s listing Realtor standing here with his clients, watching their confused expressions as they considered the riddle I now pondered. He’d know exactly what they were going to say—the same thing everyone who looked at this house must say. “Why did they…

Issue 13.1 – Nonfiction

The clouds looked thick like a thousand wet cotton balls glued together in the sky. My brother and I drove five hours through the Tennessee cold to arrive at an open field with a barn-style home in the front. He flicked the last of his cigarette out of the window of our shared Honda Accord…