The Workshop Remembers
My brother gave the eulogy at our father’s funeral and called himself “the only son who ever understood him.” I sat in the third row in my dress uniform and […]
My brother gave the eulogy at our father’s funeral and called himself “the only son who ever understood him.” I sat in the third row in my dress uniform and […]
At 11:51 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, the champagne flutes went up, and my father, James, tapped a spoon against the crystal until the crowded dining room fell silent. He […]
My name is Susan. I’m fifty-five years old, a housewife who works part-time, and I married my high school classmate Danny thirty years ago. We raised two children in that […]
I retired on a Tuesday, not because Tuesday meant anything special, but because that was the day my last shift ended at the old manufacturing plant outside Grand Rapids. By […]
My sister turned the whole family against me, and they cut me off for thirteen years. Then my small business took off, and I bought a house on a cliff. […]
My phone buzzed against the stainless steel counter of the nurses’ station at exactly 7:14 in the evening. I glanced down expecting a lab result or a schedule change. Instead, […]
I sit cross-legged on the hardwood floor of my parents’ Portland living room, surrounded by torn wrapping paper and the artificial pine scent of Christmas morning, watching my sister Chelsea […]
Where Safety Is I never expected my seventieth birthday to be the day I stopped apologizing for existing. I had spent twelve years as a widow and I was good […]
I picked up my eight-year-old granddaughter in my son’s car because it seemed the most practical thing to do that afternoon. That was what I kept telling myself as I […]
The gold pen felt strangely heavy in my hand when I lifted it. When I finished signing the divorce papers, the grandfather clock in the mediator’s office struck nine in […]