Creative Nonfiction

Walking Our Mothers

by Kristin Berger

Something has switched between us, our roles are reversed, my hand is leading hers. A late summer sun sears our backs, shadows our faces. The meadow crests into nothingness, a clean sweep of hill emblazed by blue sky. Our feet seek the seam of hard packed clay between tall grasses going to seed. Our pace finds a rhythm in the rising heat, up the trail to a dusty summit.

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Girl-Shy

by Kris Malone Grossman

I’ve wept at Dr. Christiane Northrup public television specials. I’ve dreamed of marching on Washington with my little girl. So the second my tummy popped last winter, all my friends greeted me with a hug. “Going for a daughter,” they’d wink—I already have two sons—and I’d crack a joke about finally getting to gorge on miniature tutus and matching hair accessories. Then the sonogram flashed me another full frontal boy, and I started to cry. But not because I had to kiss those tutu dreams so long, that I’d have to stomach another bris, or even that nature had just issued a de facto death warrant for my mitochondrial DNA. I cried because I was profoundly relieved: I wouldn’t have to bring a girl into this man’s world.

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A Summer's Day: Mother to Child

by Maureen Sullivan Keleher

You could always find the key under the rock, where Mom left it: rusty, in a soggy plastic bag, beneath the flat slate rock to the left of the back stairs. Only she carried her own key: everyone else used the key caked with dirt. It was constant, reliable, permanent. But now Mom is gone and the key is gone. We don't know where it went, only that Dad went to Scituate this summer and it wasn't there. We have to depend on ourselves now: our memories and our new keys.

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Read the Introduction Recent Creative Nonfiction Walking Our Mothers Girl-Shy A Summer's Day: Mother to Child Leaving Neverland Erosion Peeling Back the Truth Varanasi The Free Range Bionicle Unprepared for Fury Dear Em Archives Creative Nonfiction archives E-zine Don't have time to check for updates? Let us come to you! Click here to subscribe or unsubscribe to the Literary Mama E-zine. Literary Mama About Us Submissions Contact Privacy Policy Literary Mama Bookshop Literary Mama Gear Powered by Movable Type 3.16	Creative Nonfiction Walking Our Mothers by Kristin Berger Something has switched between us, our roles are reversed, my hand is leading hers. A late summer sun sears our backs, shadows our faces. The meadow crests into nothingness, a clean sweep of hill emblazed by blue sky. Our feet seek the seam of hard packed clay between tall grasses going to seed. Our pace finds a rhythm in the rising heat, up the trail to a dusty summit. Continue reading "Walking Our Mothers" Girl-Shy by Kris Malone Grossman I’ve wept at Dr. Christiane Northrup public television specials. I’ve dreamed of marching on Washington with my little girl. So the second my tummy popped last winter, all my friends greeted me with a hug. “Going for a daughter,” they’d wink—I already have two sons—and I’d crack a joke about finally getting to gorge on miniature tutus and matching hair accessories. Then the sonogram flashed me another full frontal boy, and I started to cry. But not because I had to kiss those tutu dreams so long, that I’d have to stomach another bris, or even that nature had just issued a de facto death warrant for my mitochondrial DNA. I cried because I was profoundly relieved: I wouldn’t have to bring a girl into this man’s world. Continue reading "Girl-Shy" A Summer's Day: Mother to Child by Maureen Sullivan Keleher You could always find the key under the rock, where Mom left it: rusty, in a soggy plastic bag, beneath the flat slate rock to the left of the back stairs. Only she carried her own key: everyone else used the key caked with dirt. It was constant, reliable, permanent. But now Mom is gone and the key is gone. We don't know where it went, only that Dad went to Scituate this summer and it wasn't there. We have to depend on ourselves now: our memories and our new keys. Continue reading "A Summer's Day: Mother to Child"