And back to where she started where she belonged — The prospect of Diane’s sixtieth birthday hung as heavy on her as her own body. She felt dread in the extra fifty pounds she carried on her petite frame, a weight that harbored fears of mortality. Diane enjoyed beer and tortilla chips too much so the weight would likely stay…

Especially when it involves fungi — Recently and elsewhere, I participated in a photography challenge that asked the question, “What’s your photographic groove?” Now there’s a great question! At heart, I’m a minimalist … although if you saw my bedroom/workroom, such a thought would have you laughing your arse off. By minimalist, I mean I don’t…

And would … should … anyone care? — In deciding what to wear to a funeral, my 98-year-old mother said, “I guess I have to wear a bra.” I almost laughed. She’s 98, for goodness sake, and the funeral was for her daughter. Wearing a bra should have been the last thing on her mind (if at all). …

What I would tell my sister if she were still here — I could have been a better sister. I was only nine and you were nineteen when you married and left the family home. As you took your vows, I sat in the pew, steeling myself to be quiet, voiceless cries whirling in my head: “Don’t go! Don’t leave me!” I…

I fear the warranty has expired on my current brain — Dear FROM LEMON, I need a new brain, even one labeled “Abby Normal” (https://youtu.be/C9Pw0xX4DXI) would be better than the one I have now except I don’t want surgery, and I doubt any doctor out there would be willing to do a brain transplant on me. But I need something to…

Growing up through live music — At the time, I didn’t consider myself lucky or unlucky to be growing up in an area where you could only hear live music during the summer. But now, I feel I was very lucky. I grew up roughly in the central part of New York state, where farmland still…

Poetry that explores how those we’ve loved and lost are never truly gone. — I always feel apprehensive when reviewing poetry, maybe more so than when I’m writing the poetry myself. Some time ago, I took an online writing course, and the instructor mentioned in passing that she liked writing poetry because you didn’t need to explain poetry like you would explain a story…

A tale of two sisters — Lola Jane undid the frayed ties of her soiled kitchen apron and carefully placed it in the basin of warm water, Tide, and bleach. She’d already freed her hot, swollen feet from the cheap dingy white sneakers she wore every day, from 6 am to 6 pm. Her diner hours…

A good writer should read, but can you read too much? — Another day has gone by with my best intentions dead in the water. Oh, I got some things done: Finally mailed that touristy New York t-shirt to our pet sitter after it sat folded on a side table for three weeks. Picked up our senior cat’s “no-more-howling-in-the-middle-of-the-night” medication. Did two…