by Gil Hoy On those windswept weekday mornings, asphalt driveway crusted with snow, my father would get up early, put on his secondhand boots and an old coat, and exit through our front door into the blue hour to get the motor running. That fifteen-year-old station wagon would stall if…
by Jacqueline Ledoux The clock ticks as seconds go by. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours as I sit here, waiting. The chair I’m seated in is uncomfortable and the room smells sterile, like strong cleaning solution and chemicals. Perhaps the purpose of these nocuous agents is to…
My mother sobbed when she found out she was having a girl. I was to be the first after two boys and for that, she was ecstatic. I’ve seen the video countless times, each time noting the way her beautiful brown hair stuck to her forehead and her mossy green…