Our neighborhood has a sidewalk chalk artist, and I think she’s a girl. Twelve, maybe thirteen ...
Ann Kathryn Kelly reads her essay “Angie” for the Unlatched Open Mic Podcast, produced in London.
Ann Kathryn Kelly reads her essay “The Pull” for the Unlatched Open Mic Podcast, produced in London.
The revolving door into 75 Francis Street, one of three entrances into Boston’s Brigham and Women’s ...
In my garden, one of the first of my summer plants to push up from the ground in late May, after the spring ...
My brother Sean and I had a routine the summer we spent in hospital waiting rooms. He’d pull ...
I was at the final winery I’d be visiting in the Chianti region, seated at a long farm table with ...
I hiccupped and slid into the booth beside Shelly. Wiggled out of my down coat. It was March, slushy ...
A breeze swept off the water and into the car’s window as we crossed the Tobin Bridge toward home.
Dispatch, from a May morning. The birds don’t know. They didn’t get the memo. Their songs outside my ...
I’ve felt the pull for years, to see what’s out there, how it differs from what I understand of the world ...
I called it Angie. It made what I had sound less clinical. I wanted the term for my diagnosis, cavernous ...
My skin, this January morning, thirsts for moisture. For lotion, a balm to soothe the itching ...
“A fiction writer starts with meaning, then manufactures events to represent it. A memoirist starts with events, then ...”
I spent my 2017 Thanksgiving in Barcelona. It was a departure, in many ways, from how I typically celebrate this U.S. holiday ...
There’s no better way for me to remember to appreciate my blessings than to travel, and to begin to understand how the other half ...
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