I’m five, holding my scooter in position at the front of our house. I’m staring down the driveway that stretches to the gate near the...

I was bullied in fifth grade, but not by other students: My teacher was the culprit, and she seemed to take special delight in tormenting...

Kihyana is sixteen and wears CDG and thrift store jeans three sizes too big. She likes stompy boots with spikes. She occasionally dyes...

I step into my gynecologist's office. I didn’t even know they had ones for consultations. I assumed they only worked in rooms with...

I wake up early enough to leave a message saying I’m sick, then close my eyes and tell myself that sometimes it takes a moment of giving...

We went on a family ski trip to Australia once. It’s was strange skiing through gum trees in the rain. The terrain flat the snow thin the...

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” My daughter Rogan was standing in our kitchen carrying a Size 8 sneaker full of Rachael Ray...

Mackinac Island - Week Four - 2004 Sunday The staff dining room walls were the color of cooked egg yolk, the floors a hospital white....

Tell everyone you're fine. Pick yourself up from the bottom of the stairs, climb back up to the kitchen and take the phone from your mom...

“Hello, I’m Emmy Lu,” said a tiny woman with bright white hair cropped short and elegantly dressed in a sapphire blue cardigan the color...

The toddler stands barefoot in his nappy on the warm tarmac. Or in his diaper on warm asphalt, if I were to use the North Americanisms my...

For Roja Azadian Everyone in the group chat voted. A committee of girls, three of us, were chosen to pick out the jewellery, a goodbye...

The bookbag is a ruse, makes me look competent like I know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I don’t think anyone suspects I’m moving...

The shallow end greets me like an old acquaintance who can’t quite recall my name. I shiver from the cold or maybe doubt, then submerge,...

It’s the early aughts. I’m no older than eight, stuck at a Hannaford grocery outlet. While my father was elsewhere gathering items for...

An incomplete log of children who I have not seen: The Sasquatch. His body type is indistinguishable from that of my father. They share...

The connection I feel to my mother’s side I would not define as a connection. More a fantasy. There is no one to connect with. I have...

When my son wants to disappear for a while, he turns into a cat. He curls his small limbs into an ovalish shape on the couch, facedown in...

Joan’s face goes blank, but not fast enough to conceal a sour, fleeting look of… scorn? Boredom? Disappointment? All of the above? I sip...

Lying in bed one night, I found a lump on my testicle. This was Spring 2009; I had recently turned thirty. To be certain, I fondled the...