Category: Essays

The Piano Sale by Lucille Rains

Antique piano close up

It was unusual for anyone to shop for a piano on a Friday night, much less expect to have it delivered and tuned that same night, but this was a special occasion. Istvan was getting married over the weekend and he wanted to surprise his bride, Katalin.

The Second Education by Michael Milburn

Every year my middle school students ask me why I became an English teacher. They appear to respect my colleagues and me; one or two might even admit to considering teaching as a career, but the tone of the question is usually incredulous.

Dust to Dust by Emily Johnson

africa road and sky

That day in mid-August in the Congo was late in the dry season— the sun a seared-copper disc, a cigarette burn on the sky’s perfect palate of skin. I stepped off the boat at the “port” into the sucking, ankle-deep grey mud. I lost a sandal.

Switched at Midlife by Sharon Carmack

rotary phone and cell phone

I wasn’t expecting another daughter. I was expecting a mother. But there comes a point when mothers and daughters switch roles. Her voice on the phone: “Hello, Sharon? This is your daughter.” I smile. “No,” I say. “I’m your daughter. You’re my mother.”

Confirmation by Nikki Foltin

close up of old style wodden church pews

November rain drummed the stained-glass panels of St. John’s southern exposure—not with the intruding rat-ta-tat-tat of a snare, but the low, rolling of a bass drum, more of a feeling than an actual sound—like the third cello in an orchestra, whose part is only appreciated in absentia. On any other day I might not have given such weather any consideration, but, on this day, I worried that the rain might somehow distract or detract from the service.

Debbie Did by Deborah Thompson

blank nametag on woman

Forty-seven years ago my parents named me Debbie. The birth certificate says Deborah, but the intention was always Debbie. They said the name was unusual at the time, and that their choice had nothing to do with Debbie Reynolds. It was a good Jewish name—but not too Jewish. It just felt right.

The Patriotic Chicken by Krista Creel

Silkie Chicken fuffy white with gray beak

Riding in my Sunday dress in the passenger side of a well-equipped Cadillac Deville down an old gravel road, I was feeling the kind of sublimity that not even my small town southern preacher could’ve gleaned from me that day. Why? Because I had a rooster on my lap.

Learning to Swim by Angelle Scott

african american young woman in pool doing backstroke

Most people learn how to swim when they are young. It’s easier for children because they haven’t become as aware of their mortality as adults have. They may be afraid of water, but they aren’t afraid of drowning to death, like some adults are. I was in my late twenties when I took my first swim lesson.