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I’m the one who was so desperate for a dog that I sat on the wood floor of our living room, hour after hour, week after week, and memorized the dog section of the encyclopedia.
By Esther EhrlichFebruary 2022I counted because I had told myself that if the count was right, my mother would be spared. My father would not die. My older sister, Jeanne, would make it to high school. But only if I kept the count.
By Gary PercesepeFebruary 2022The good-looking one, the one in need, the one that almost was
By Our ReadersNovember 2021On our way back from a Mother’s Day celebration in Newport Beach / my sister turned to me & said, Have you ever thought about treatment for your / eating disorder? For years the only eating disorder in the house was hers.
By Jeremy RadinOctober 2021The kind you’re born with, the kind you choose, the kind that teach Catholic school
By Our ReadersOctober 2021But then I accidentally bite into one of the sour, acrid parts of quarantine. It’s easy to forget, when you live four hundred miles away, that your mother’s temper can be sparked by something as benign as family movie night or a run-in with the Hertz rental-car dealership.
By Emma DaleAugust 2021After this friend left, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, where I shut the door and fell to my knees, shaking and crying. I wished that my brother had been different. And I wished that I had been more forgiving and compassionate. I wished that everything between us had been different. I was on that floor for a while.
By Marc InmanAugust 2021“Imagine if we’d known,” I said. “If you’d had a diagnosis, you could have been given lithium or something to help you.” Joan lifted her hands to her face and sobbed.
By S.B. RoweMarch 2021In a clearing in the woods alongside a country lane outside the town of Tutwiler in Tallahatchie County, Mississippi, stands Sonny Boy Williamson’s granite grave marker. As we approach, we notice more of the glints beneath us, and notice the same silver glints piled atop the old monument.
By Teddy MackerJanuary 2021He would have said, sometimes it’s not about the truth. Sometimes it’s about kindness. Especially when it comes to family.
By Sam RuddickApril 2020Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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