by Kristi Robertson | Jun 27, 2022
When my father dies, I know I won’t be able to pack up his guitars. The yellow Stratocaster, well-worn, with the home-brew label on the back featuring my baby face smeared with food; the mahogany Gibson, sleek and soft from care and use. Even the barely played black...
by Laura Jablonski | Jun 16, 2021
It’s raining today. I can expect a couple of things. The parking lot will be covered by a thin layer of frothy soap and bubbles that have spilled from the open doors of our neighboring laundromat. There will be a large amount of soup and warm meals to make tonight....
by Laura Jablonski | Jul 2, 2020
It’s been a long day at school and an even longer afternoon filled with ballet classes and rehearsals. I’m tired, hungry, and weighed down from the exhaustion of the day, but as I weave down the curvy road and pull into my driveway, I am filled with a sense of relief...
by Laura Jablonski | Aug 19, 2019
I’ve lived in 5 different houses, gone to 8 different schools and lived in 2 different countries. Growing up, I never thought twice about my childhood. My father has been active duty in the Special Forces of the Army for 30 years. The older I get, and the longer I...
by Laura Jablonski | Aug 30, 2018
I’ve heard the saying, “Home is where you hang your hat.” In my case, it would be more accurate to say home is where you hang your helmet, your bat bag, your chlorine scented swim suit, your CrossFit bag or any variety of sports equipment that is unloaded from the car...
