My favorite spot of sea is brackish brown, not the topaz splendor of the Mediterranean or Caribbean. My sea laps with waves dyed brown from tannins, as though those waves…
Author: <span>Beth Hendrickson</span>
Hope is often unhappy. Like the hope that surfaced at my bedside at 4:30 am. It was a choral hope in the form of two pajamaed bodies singing in unison,…
Dear Immediate Family Members of Mine, Perhaps I’ve forgotten to tell you lately that I adore you. I dote on you, to use a word learned from our spelling test…
Little C simply does not know what a whisper is. She thinks it’s yelling…with your lips mostly pursed. This definition makes for some interesting interactions at church, library, post office,…
I took a crash course in drawing from the National Gallery of Art this weekend, crash being the operative word, as in “Crash and Burn.” At least, my output has the…
I am surrounded by a silence that can only occur when I am not responsible for another breathing member of the house. A silence that I fill by folding my…