by Amanda Lightner My mother called one gray February morning. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?” Pinching the phone between my ear and shoulder, I scraped cereal from my son’s bib. “Mom? You there?” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I’m here. Sorry to call so early, but I have a favor…
By Joyce Hurd For International Women’s Day, we’re celebrating the daily impact women have on our lives. This essay honors a grandmother who met all of the challenges life threw at her with hard work, faith and love. My grandmother, Eva, immigrated from Canada as a girl and married another…
By Katelynn Smith For International Women’s Day, we’re celebrating the daily impact women have on our lives. This essay honors a dedicated social worker who puts the needs of her students and colleagues above all else. We all know an unsung hero. Maybe it’s a parent or caretaker who’s unnoticed…
By Adiela Akoo When it rains, it pours!! These last few days epitomized this, with no less than four family members being rushed to the hospital, two requiring urgent operations! The usually effervescent energy of the family chat group quickly shifted to a somberness that weighed heavily on the chest,…
by Kyle Heger Even in these fractious times, there are a few things we parents can agree on. First, to succeed in our society, a person needs good behaviors. Second, good behaviors are largely caused by good feelings. Third, to make sure our children grow up to achieve success, we…
By Joseph Eastburn One of my three favorite movies of all time is “Vertigo.” I have seen it countless times. I would tell you, without a doubt, that I understand the ending. At least I thought I did. Many years ago, when we still had VCRs, my wife mentioned that though…
by Linda Bragg LATE DECEMBER 1972 The sour smell of lung cancer clings to the humid air – heavy, unyielding. My family lives in Florida, and like most homes, ours has no air-conditioning. My father’s been sick for two years — now he’s coughing up blood and breathing has…
by Marilee Robin Burton I trekked to Glendale to retrieve a copy of Black Tickets by Jayne Anne Phillips, an intense and dark writer. The book was a collection of stories I’d been wanting to read and had even ordered from Amazon but was too anxious to await the money-saving secondhand…
by Cathy Krizik Keandra placed her napkin in her lap. “Can we pray?” Oh shit. Lunch was supposed to be soup and salad. Not this. I clenched my teeth and dropped my knife, the clang reverberating like a spade hitting rock. Here? Now? Really? “Pray—right. Yes, of course.” Keandra and…
by Michelle Huston I have no memory of the first time I got my period. I can barely remember getting it this past week, although the gnawing feeling inside my uterus reminds me that it did indeed arrive on Wednesday. I do, however, remember when I first learned that a…