Wendy Day 1 – Group B

Poppy is a master weaver. Her eyesight is dimming and her fingers are gnarled but they still ferry beauty into the warp and weft. For twenty years she’s worked on this wall-hanging to conceal the crack on the bedroom wall, above where Odin briefly lay in the marital...

  My strongest memory of my Uncle Bill was his "fart" trick. It would happen at the end of holiday dinners at grandma's house when we would be sitting around the table with coffee and empty dessert plates. Uncle Bill would lift a leg as high as the table top,...

My dad was not the José who made his thumb disappear. That was Don José. On Thursdays, Don José would wheel in a wooden cart that squeaked downhill to our cul-de-sac and groaned on its way up. He would fill the cart with the piles of newspapers we kept for him in a...

The neighbor's jasmine is descending my side of the fence in full bloom. It softens the otherwise barren corner of the year. The neighbor only shows up to power wash and mow, like so many around here now. The fragrance is lovely and when it puts its face in mine I...