The Person Who Loves, No Matter What

The Person Who Loves, No Matter What

Occasionally, one of my students would accidentally call me “Mom.”  This would not have been unusual, if I’d taught Kindergarten or first or second grade.  But I did not teach at an elementary school.  I taught at a university.  Inevitably, the student who had...
Nothing Heard

Nothing Heard

I am alone on this night road, with nothing for company but the hum of the tires, the purr of the engine, and the transmissions – some as strong as if the speaker were sitting next to me, some barely audible beneath the static – fading in and out of the radio lying on...
The Best Part of the Day

The Best Part of the Day

Once upon a time, when traveling was a thing that people could do without worrying about inadvertently taking COVID-19 along for the ride, I drove up to Ashland early on a Sunday morning to join my boyfriend and his six-year-old daughter, who had been vacationing on...
The Little Things

The Little Things

Every year of the decade-or-so that I lived in Madison, Loran Miller would recruit me, as summer meandered into autumn, for the harvest. Handing me two plastic five-gallon buckets and pointing me in the general direction of the wheelbarrow, which I would need when the...