True Stories

Work from my ongoing childhood memoir project.


I’m not exactly sure why I can’t look into his face. Partly I am still hurt and a little angry because he has pulled away from me. Partly I am ashamed about wrecking the dashboard and radio in his new van. But mostly I am just dreading school clothes shopping with Dad: He stands before me wearing a tan parka over his suit and tie. The parka is made from some sort of synthetic fabric so that whenever he moves, it makes loud swishing noises. Read more…


Chest hammering, I decide I don’t have to take it anymore. Reaching forward, I snap the TV on and settle back into the love seat. I try to look relaxed, but my body is on high alert. Mom comes to the door and looks at me incredulously, her hands on her hips.

I don’t look into her eyes or smile. My best bet is to pretend she didn’t realize I was watching, that her turning the TV off was some sort of accident. Read more…


Looking out the window, I pretend what Dad is saying doesn’t even matter to me, but I am listening carefully to every word he says. The wind rushing in the window makes a loud noise. I wait quietly for a few minutes. When I finally speak, my voice sounds creaky and dry. Read more…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: