pierre fontenot »
Bittersweet
I remember a day in my childhood, at my grandmother’s; it’s her, my aunt, my first cousin, and me, the little boy kid. They were going through a photo album, mostly black ‘n white,
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THE GOD SPOT
My dog, Kramer, trusts me. I’d like to believe I earned it. She trusted me when she was in youth and vigor, and now, here we are, at her end, and she’s trusting me
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A Good Morning For Mourning
My old dog Kramer is dying, been dying all of 2016, cancer, and failing heart. She has several tumors on her right side, just before the back leg. Nothing the vet can do, but
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July In Our Neck O’ The Woods
In June kids, teachers and parents are still transitioning from the end of school, but you cross over into July, and something changes; summer gets settled and official. July is the most casual of
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Local
Local is knowing what the locals mean when they tell you to take a left at the old Sears, even when there’s no old Sears anymore. Local is knowing which bank they mean, when
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If I Had But One
If I had but one advice for teenage me it would be, “Your elders are smarter than they talk, steadier than they walk, and more than they do.” At 15 I saw the What,
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The Performance Of Her Life
My father answered The Call. I don’t know if they still use that phrase, but in the 1950’s, someone like my father, who was supposed to continue on in the family farming business could
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My Grandmother’s Kitchen
She never had a dishwasher. Never had marble countertops. Never even had painted cabinets. Tell her what she didn’t have and she’d be too polite to offend you, but she’d be thinking, ‘I used
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The Lullaby Of Cajun French
…where the story begins with the author declaring himself a “Token”… _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ In my 20’s I was a novelty. I’d moved to the big city
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ANONYMITY
I was just a kid, I’d done something dumb, was walking around like Judas at a reunion of the Twelve Apostles, until an adult stepped in and said, “There ain’t a single Chin in
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