Imagine being told at your annual physical that you have a cancerous spot on your right lung. Then, in a follow-up that you have a year left to live. One year. That’s all. Imagine having to squeeze all your dreams and plans for the future onto the pages of a single wall calendar. That is what happened to Dawn West, who is still alive today, twenty-six years after that terminal diagnosis. Dawn and I had been dating for a month when she received the devastating news. After her first diagnosis, we visited other doctors for … Continue reading Beating a Death Sentence by Bill Glose→
Our touring barge plows south through Mekong waters soon to arrive in the Delta. It’s been years, yet the names of these places are still familiar. Glossary of napalm and agent orange, of families fleeing, of death. I stand on deck and see a peaceful land, little battered boats, hut homes, rice-carrying hoys, their painted eyes alert for evil spirits. Everywhere in the brown current, islands of hyacinths float — invasive spread of jade leaves, plum blooms and unseen roots that hang in the water and thrive. Close by a flat boat drifts, nets piled … Continue reading Unseen Roots by Martha Snell→
Another Medicare commercial came on TV. It was getting to be time for bed. Brad knew that if he didn’t turn off the television and get out of his recliner it would be midnight again before he got under the covers with Julia. He could have been in bed by now if he had gotten a wink and a smile from her as she went up to bed, but she gave no hints there would be romance. That part of their relationship was trending downward. They still got along fine, but more like … Continue reading He Died In Her Sleep Peter Wallace→
Irish-American New Yorkers—especially those of the Catholic persuasion—have a knack for fatalist worst-case scenarios. Maybe it’s the indigenous oppression and starvation imprinted long ago on our DNA. Maybe it’s the second-class steerage tickets to America that marked us not just for life, but for generations. Maybe it’s from perpetually feeling two lengths behind, no matter how fast we sprint. It’s most assuredly from ill-fitting plaid Catholic school uniforms and the dysfunctional religious practice of making pride—and the inherent, innocent swell of joy—sinful. For some reason, I couldn’t sleep tonight. I woke at 2 am, … Continue reading The Odd and Tender Clarity of 4 AM Kathleen McKitty Harris→
I don’t blame my body for its language, for keeping its sacredness secure with words, its spleen tagging towards holiness and eternity, since I don’t seem to understand its nature, or why it mistakes my joys for sorrow, my pains for happiness, my tedium for freedom. I have kept the momentum of my dreams, but my body betrays me each time I reach out to have a sensible conversation about our future. It’s not too hard to make up with your enemies, except that sometimes they open the wounds from which you struggled to escape … Continue reading The Language of My Body by Chibuike Ukah→
I was strolling with my wife in Brookline, Massachusetts, on a charming street with clothing and gift stores, Japanese restaurants, delis, and a Japanese tea house. I ducked into a bookstore, assuring my wife that I would be out in a minute, not pivoting quickly enough to miss her exasperated eye roll. After browsing the fiction and poetry sections, examining the New Releases and Bargain tables and the Staff Picks rack, and then doing an analysis of which book covers made a book stand out (getting ideas for the cover design for my then upcoming … Continue reading Booking It by E. H. Jacobs→
I, who have never known love like this for my kinfolk in a burning world I’m tired of loneliness rewiring this brain, tired of wasting time waiting for the skies to clear, waiting for a turn, waiting for the urge to pass. Here, let me share this bread I baked, this salt, this god only a body can understand, I love you, here is a cup of tea, your coffee with maple syrup, the way you like it I love you, I made you soup, hungry for a kind of closeness like wilderness of hair … Continue reading This year is forecast four winters and I can’t save the burning world by Andreea Ceplinschi→
Among the activities of our local Parks and Recreation Department are youth sports (including cheerleading), a genealogy class, bingo, adult softball, “track chair” outings, gymnastics, Taekwondo, a class on identifying and removing invasive plants, and yoga. The yoga offered may not strictly conform to any of the seven modern varieties or schools (other than the fact that classes are held in a repurposed school building!), but is exactly what most participants need and want. Frankly, there are as many species of yoga as there are individuals: every one’s grimace is DNA different. The class … Continue reading Yoga Today by Fred Wilbur→
…………. ………To commemorate the victims of the Khmer Rouge we faced a large number of classrooms the bird outside faced the trees, unvoiced. the winter’s soldier burns the classroom changing our dream into a brimstone lake. the bird still like stone, still watching blood on her face. she wears the blade of clothes. the bird lives here, dozing, but full of blood sense in its eyes. we, trapped here. once the classroom, the way turns to Pol … Continue reading The Bird Lives Here to Wait by Yucheng Tao→
Wendy Fontaine is the 2nd place winner of Streetlight‘s 2026 Essay/Memoir Contest I need to find my winter boots My daughter is home from college on her freshman spring break, and she wants to wear them to a swim meet. She’s here for such a short time and anxious to see old friends and teammates from her high school swimming years, despite the lousy weather. Three straight days of precipitation, flooding and wind. An atmospheric river, they say, creeping in from the Pacific. Just this morning, as she lay sprawled in her bed, I ran errands through … Continue reading Lost Boots by Wendy Fontaine→
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