The first thing my mother ever taught me about belonging was that I had not earned it yet. I was nine years old. It was my birthday. My mother had […]
My grandmother Ruth believed that the things you did quietly were the truest things about you. She said this to me when I was twelve years old, sitting at her […]
The café owner had already called my dog ugly when the stranger beside me leaned in and asked him one quiet question. “Tell me, Christopher. Does the name Victoria mean […]
My mother has a way of folding her hands that I have been watching for fifty-one years. She puts them in her lap, right over left, fingers slightly curved, and […]
There is a specific quality to the grief of not knowing. It is different from the grief of loss. Loss has an end to it, a bottom, a place where […]
Most people only get one second chance at life. Mine came with three extra hearts. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start on the Thursday night, two days […]
Christmas dinner at my parents’ house in suburban Ohio had barely reached dessert when my sister, Lauren, leaned across the table and said, “Must be nice to show up empty-handed […]
My parents told Grandma Eleanor they were taking her to lunch. Three hours later, a nursing home in Ohio called me. “Are you Daniel Mercer?” the woman asked. “Your grandmother […]
My name is Marcus Webb. I’m 41 years old, and I’ve spent most of my adult life making sure nobody ever needed to feel sorry for me. Not because I’m […]
“Nobody cares about pawns.” Miles said it with the absolute confidence only a seven-year-old can bring to something completely wrong. Arthur reached across the concrete chess table, slow the way […]