STUCK

My little VW Beetle was parked close to a curb at a friend’s house. Their grassy lawn sat on the other side. As I opened the door to get in, the sharp lime-green corner stuck in the earth. As hard as I pulled, I couldn’t get it free.

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Stay on the Line

The cop took a U-turn at the light, following me in my lane.

“There is a police car behind me,” I explained to my sister on the phone. I put my blinker on and turned. “Oh no, they turned too.”

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Communicate the Line

Engrossed in a good movie, I didn’t want to leave. I cursed myself for chugging the large coke, waited until a spot in the movie that I could tolerate missing and sprinted to the bathroom. A line greeted me. I smiled at the people in front of me and tried to be patient. I was pretty desperate and didn’t want to miss any more of the film. What was taking so long? I didn’t want to appear pushy. So I waited just a little more.

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Muscle Memory by Author Lindsay Leslie

Rollerskating. The shine of a newly waxed wooden floor. The clunk, clunk, clunk of those four wheels speeding around the rink. The throbbing pop music pumping through the speakers. I love the roller rink. I spent my adolescence there, and now, as a momma, I take my kids.

The first time I took them, I hadn’t been rollerskating in a while, but I was game. We laced up our skates and hit the floor. Literally. It didn’t take more than four rotations before my face made a beeline for that waxy wood. But something in my mind kicked in.

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Reggae, Amputations, and Trice by Author Jess Hagemann

I met Trice at The Absinthe House on Pearl Street. The bar doesn’t exist anymore, but when it did they had weekly reggae nights. I spotted him immediately—that woven tam cap slouching over two kind eyes, those baggy jeans swaying gracefully to the music. He asked me to dance, and I asked him what he did—proving that first impressions aren’t everything. That sometimes, the soul’s story sounds like The Wailers when it sings.

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New Year’s Fire

Over Christmas, I got to build fires at my sister’s home. I was a bit out of practice and enjoyed the challenge. Rachel and my brother-in-love have these little “fire starters” that you can place and light to help get the rest of the fire going. I thought, “oh this is going to be easier than usual…a little wood and one of these babies and wham we’ll have a fire.” The first fire I built looked architecturally fine, but didn’t last.

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Rebekah Manley Comments
Hold Space

I circled the packed YMCA parking lot. My anxious pre-yoga pep talk did not go well: “I’m not going to get a spot and I’ll be late for class. There might not be room for me. Even if there is, I don’t want to be that person.”

I took a deep breath and kept circling.

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Peace Like a River by Author Chris Cander

Inside, 20 teenagers—many of them scarred, tattooed, broken-looking—talked in small groups. After I was introduced, the kids looked at me somewhat suspiciously. As I told them why I loved this incredible story of a young boy’s journey across the frozen Badlands of the Dakotas in search of his fugitive older brother, it occurred to me that I might not be able to give away any books at all.

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Cherry Thanksgiving

After family staycations at the Embassy Suites, my twin sister and I thought “happy hour” was actually called “happy time”. Often, we’d take these trips in the fall. Rachel, my brother Joshua and I would swim for hours. We’d leave the warm indoor pool only to procure Shirley Temple and popcorn refills. We’d sloth on the walls of the pool, shoveling buttery goodness into our mouths. As leaves crunch and the weather crisps, it’s easy to get nostalgic.

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