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“The Boys of Sayre” is written on the back of this photograph. My grandfather, Ralph Hausknecht, is in the front on the far right. Our lives are made up of stories, like a tree is made up of rings. The oldest stories circle us, hold...
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The twins ran to the kitchen shouting, “Mow! Mow!” and I followed to confirm the sighting. For months now they’ve named and claimed every “mower” they see as we drive or walk through town. Every lawn mower,...
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He was middle-aged, with a shock of honey-blond hair, dressed in a suit and tie. Crossing the street in front of me, he stood on the far corner, smoking a cigarette, waiting to cross again. Raising the thin tube to his lips, he took a drag, tilting his head as if to...
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‘Tis curious that we only believe as deep as we live. Emerson, Beauty She was bent at the waist, plucking at the ground near the swings, hunting and pecking like a chicken and I thought for a minute that maybe she’d lost something. When we reached the...
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Last summer my older children discovered two large, black and yellow spiders in our neighbor’s flower garden. The first was heavy and round and we marveled at her girth as she sat swaying in the breeze, resting on the zigzagging line that ran down the...
