I’m discovering that if I don’t have a book at hand, it’s far too easy to find a remote control in hand. I’ll fess up to watching every single episode…
Author: <span>Beth Hendrickson</span>
Paris has tacky billboards. Slightly less tacky than American billboards, simply because anything written in French seems more appealing to me, but tacky all the same. It’s this realization, which…
Little Friend roams the lawn fringing the preschool parking lot with a band of wild cohorts. Children with mud-fringed pants legs, hair escaping riotously from pig tails, backpacks flinging about…
When you attend a liberal arts college, and especially when you major in English at a liberal arts college, there’s always the question that quickly follows: What will you do…
The rubber rat plopped into the toilet, missing the intended wastebasket by inches. As I stood looking down on the vile thing swirling gently around the bowl on its back,…
There are moments scattered throughout the days when a child pipes a question that stops breath mid-lung, that pauses the hands busy with nonessentials, that stills the soul with the…