The Old Pink Robe Ain’t What She Used to Be

Years ago my mom bought a pink chenille robe for a hundred dollars. It was a special robe – floor length, pockets and an attached belt – everything she had been searching for in a robe. For ten years she’s worn the robe faithfully. Cuddled up on the couch, down the sidewalk to grab the paper, standing out on the deck to take the dog out, in a suitcase from Georgia to Texas and back several times – that robe has seen a few miles. However, like everything else in life, over time the robe is beginning to look a little worn. Years of washing and wearing have taken a toll on the precious pink garment. The chenille is worn out in places, leaving thin patches of fabric polka-dotting the robe. The color has faded to a pale shade of baby pink. The shawl collar is limp and the coffee and ice cream stains that dribble the front of the robe don’t add anything to its already humble state. 

Read more

Celebrating April!

By Kathi Macias    

I love Spring. Really, I do! If only April didn’t have to happen right in the middle of it….

When I was a kid, I actually looked forward to April. Why? Because the last day of the month is my birthday. And when you can still count your age on the fingers of your two hands, birthdays are about as exciting as it gets! (I have long since run out of fingers and toes to count on, even when I use my husband’s!)

Read more

Wrinkled Music

The young man scuffed the toes of his laceless shoes. He stared at the twelve-inch squares of linoleum on the floor of the music department’s practice room.

“Yeah, I’m not what you’d call prepared for today’s lesson.”

Read more

Skin Deep

I had something wrong in my body. Nobody knew exactly what it was or why it was causing these particular oddities to occur. Even after the routine test, examinations, lab work, surgical consults, we still had no conclusive evidence. Our next step was to surgically remove the suspected tissue for examination and testing. After the results from the surgery came back, there was still no conclusive answer to the cause of the problem.

Read more

I Can’t Do This

By Jerri Phillips

Tears well and drip onto the paper. Frustrated, she crumples the mostly finished algebra test, jumps from her chair, and runs to her room. The sound of her sobs finds its way to the kitchen where I stand heart heavy.

Read more

« Previous Page — Next Page »