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Hiding From Adulthood- A Nonfic Essay

   Hiding from Adulthood It seems as if every child’s favorite place is wherever they can find the most comfort. It’s always like a secret hiding place. Wherever a child can find a place that's all their own. To hold all their secrets.  When I was younger, I had two places like this. At my mom’s house, I was a lonely only child. Luckily for me, I had a tight-knit connection with my parents. My mom was, and still is, the most loving woman on the face of the earth, and my stepdad was, as he would say “a kid that never grew up”. So, even though I didn’t have siblings to play with, he was always around to do whatever I was interested in. Our specialty was legos. He built my favorite place with me. In the town house we lived in at the time, there was a cubby beneath the stairs. Together we built a fort of pillows and blankets in that nook. After school, we would watch movies together on our portable DVD player in the fort. My favorites were Barbie Fairytopia and Cheaper by...
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Polish Grandma- A Poem

  Polish Grandma Cabbage and Potatoes. I think of you. Big dinner table, so full  we had to use folding chairs  just to fit everyone.  Pierogies and Sauerkraut. A family dinner.  Pork? Some kind of meat..  “Eat some more! You’re too skinny” “Look at you, do your parents ever feed you?”  I turn red,  “Grandma, don’t embarrass me.”  Newspapers sprawled on the table Judge Judy’s voice booming from the family room  Everyone shouting  Talking over each other  Laughter  The dog barks You slip him a buttery roll  under the table. 
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Twinkle Toes- A Poem

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   Twinkle Toes Grace in me mostly fleeting. Focused on the music, I feel my loud yet gentle heart, beating. Sashay on the stage with butterflies  Still, wide smiles through  Bright red lipstick. Between pirouettes, my  squinting eyes scan the dark auditorium.  I see you beaming with pride. Around the living room  gracelessly you flailed  I looked at you askance.  You called me twinkle toes, I called you dad. With ballet I taught you to fly. . 
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Getting Primal (With Purell)- A Nonfic Essay

  Getting Primal (with Purell) As a child I refused to eat chicken wings and ribs. It wasn’t because they were too spicy or because I didn’t like the flavor. That was actually far from true. I truly loved the flavor of each. Instead it was because I could not stand the feeling of having dirty, sticky, grimy hands. I would only eat these things if someone pulled it off the bone for me and I could eat it with a fork, which evidently made having either of these dishes a whole ordeal for everyone in my family.  *** I can remember our family dinners every night at my dad’s house around our small wooden table where we had just enough spaces for the seven of us.  My older brother Drew would come running down the stairs so fast he’d nearly fall when he’d hear someone yell “TIME TO EAT!!”. The rest of us would trickle into the kitchen one by one. I’d go to the powder room and wash my hands, snatching my younger brother, Ethan, up from his playroom. My sister would walk in slyly, s...
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Early in the MOURNing- Fiction

  Early in the MOURNing     I was sweating. My eyes darted around his desk. I look at his tricera-cop dinosaur mug, his framed photo of him and his heinous wife at the Olive Garden on their anniversary, and then back up at his round figure. I can’t figure out what to do with my hands. I wipe my clammy palms on my pants. “I need you to tell me everything that happened this morning as best as you can remember it. Remember, you’re not in trouble, we just want to figure out what’s going on,” Officer Kilby said to me from across the desk.  “I want a lawyer.” I blurted, shifting in my seat. The room fell silent. Officer Kilby got up and left the room. I tried to remember everything that happened this morning. I tried to remember what to tell him.  *** “Good morning stranger,” Tate greeted me as I walked into the teachers’ lounge for the first time in months. It was just as I’d remembered it, but nearly everything had fallen from the bulletin board that hadn’t been...
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