In seconds, a strong wind rushed our canoes as if a giant fan had switched on. Was it a piece of tornado? Struggling was instant under a blue sky and bright sun. No one spoke but leaned into the wind, paddling. We were surrounded by white caps, traveling on a long stretch of lake between … Continue reading The Boulder, 1981
The ghost never made an appearance, but she did make her feelings known. Read Amy Kierce's Circa 77.
I stood at the end of the dock, holding my string. My father bent down next to me, tying a lump of chicken we didn’t eat onto the end. “What do I do?” I asked. He pointed to the ocean below us. “Let it down gently,” he said. I peered over the dock into the … Continue reading Double-Header
We lived near the bottom of a long hill, a hill that kept going forever. From the top of the hill came stories, evasions, mysteries that were never solved. I would sometimes look up the hill and wonder. Our own house was embedded into the hill. We sledded down our side yard in winter, mowed … Continue reading The Hill
"Great Aunt Mary," asked my sister. "Can I cut your hair?"
"Sure, honey," she said. "Go get the scissors."