family
“The Beach and the Bells,” an essay by Jenny Gillespie Mason.

“The Beach and the Bells,” an essay by Jenny Gillespie Mason.

Zoom healers, a beach trip, and a campanile with canned chimes. “I can’t help but feel I’ve done something wrong in bringing them, that I put my own sanity before others’ health.” I stayed up too late on Zoom for Wendy’s fiftieth birthday dance party. I don’t remember the last time I danced like this with other...
“Pandemic Vices,” a memoir by Colleen Curran.

“Pandemic Vices,” a memoir by Colleen Curran.

Aspirations become fixations. “I won’t die,” I tell him. “Not for a long, long time. Not until you’re ready.” Photographs by the author. It felt strange at first. Novel. To be alive in the time of a crisis, a pandemic, a real-life Day of the Dead, only different. This one a silent stalker, marked by a dry...
“Nothing Like a Pandemic,” by George Choundas.

“Nothing Like a Pandemic,” by George Choundas.

Chess, mooning, candy shopping: A kid grows up in family isolation. “It’s like losing a tennis match to someone who calls her racket a thingie.” Day X I teach Claire chess. She’s nine. After example moves, and a few trial runs, we play a full game. I don’t give 100%. I don’t roll over, either....
"At Death's Door," an essay by Margie Patlak.

“At Death’s Door,” an essay by Margie Patlak.

Looking back and clinging to life. “But I just don’t feel old! I’m not ready to die.”   I was going to die. I had a brain tumor; it had grown back, I could feel it boring down into the roof of my mouth, and now I was going to die. I couldn’t accept it, couldn’t...
"After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved," a poem by Ellen Kombiyil.

“After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved,” a poem by Ellen Kombiyil.

“It didn’t flare like tissue or burn to ash but hovered many minutes …” To enjoy this feature as a broadside, drag the image to your desktop … or scroll down to read the poem in plain text. After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved 1. “There in a jar, emptied of buttons — mama put a...