Tags » Childhood Home

Block Baby

I wanted to be a Laurel. Marina. Violet. Someday I will hand her all the tattered novels and tell her, “This is why I called you Iris.”

Letting Time Pass


When I was six, my parents decided that it would be a good idea to let me pick what color to paint my bedroom in our new house. 718 more words


Bidding Farewell

Yesterday keys exchanged hands and now someone else calls the place his own. As I surveyed the property of my childhood home — the home my mother lived in for more than 55 years — one last time it was surprising to feel not so much sadness and loss but rather relief. 455 more words


What's Home?

I’ve spent the last 27 years living in the same place called Austin, Texas. In May of this year, my family sold my big 3500 sq. 607 more words


childhood home

Back in May I was over in Germany for a few visits and family functions. While I was there I stayed a few nights with my godmother in the house I lived in as a child. 72 more words


Suicide services

Some bad news this week, from my friend P and my father. They’re both committing suicide on Saturday.

“I’m glad you came by,” says P. We’re standing in his studio, a space he rents from his church. 374 more words


Open Heart Surgery

I’m the most skillfully patched out of all of us, and I’m the baby. I wrote that line many, many months ago. A sliver of a conversation with Sara or Jessy or KelseaMae– someone. 215 more words