by Gloria DiFulvio
The story is she was hanging up clothes when the aches and pains crept into her body. It was an unusually warm day, but she began to feel chilled — as if winter days had snuck into August. She felt weakness in her knees, started to sweat. She saw her neighbor working in her garden and called for her. Could she help her inside? Perhaps watch her three small children? Before she could take her first step towards the door, she collapsed, the morning’s labor of laundry now lying before her in the dusty grass.
I stopped by the post office. A stack of letters in my hand addressed to people I don’t know. The letters are part of a voter to voter campaign in Georgia. Each letter holds a message of the power of voting. Doing my small part to try to keep democracy alive.
“I’ll take two books of stamps please.” I say to the unusually perky clerk.
“Sure, which ones would you like!”
“I don’t care,” I say absentmindedly and then quickly correct myself. “I’ll take the Sesame Street stamps please.”
My friends! Big Bird, Grover, Oscar, Bert, and Ernie — how…
I don’t want you to die.
The other night, the President stated that he plans to re-open businesses and get the American economy going again. He said this despite calls from public health experts to continue with the current efforts to close all but non-essential services and practice social distancing as a country. The Lt. Governor of Texas backed the president’s statement by saying that “Lots of grandparents would be willing to die in order to save the economy for their grandchildren.” I want you to know, that I don’t want you to die. In fact, most Americans…
Music resurrects my soul.
The joy of a sun-filled sky
I touch your warmth
Longing to live
See my eyes
In the glow,
Sunrise by anna breslin
by Gloria DiFulvio
She took two steps forward on the dock, her toes suspended off the edge, her arms outstretched saluting the morning sunlight. She looked forward to that feeling of weightlessness that only the water could offer. It was time to return to her routines. This cottage was her escape, the place which made her feel truly alive. She took a deep breath when the glimmer of light caught her eye, making her pause. As she shifted her gaze to the right, she saw the flame hovering just below the surface of the water.
She closed her eyes tightly…
Water is sustenance. Not only as clean water to drink, but as food and livelihood. Cape Cod is my home away from home. It is not just a tourist destination. It is a place of hard work, culture, history. Provincetown, the tip of Cape Cod, is a fishing village, artist community, LGBT safe haven. The building in the cover photo reminds the visitors of the Portuguese women, often forgotten, who were the heart and soul of the Provincetown fishing village. …
You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere
She knew he was home. His work gloves laid out on the floor by the entrance. Really they were thrown, the right one inside out. She imagined it stuck to his ring while he tugged at it. She could also smell him. The diesel mixed with oil, wrapped in sweat, and layered in Marlboro’s. A smell that would follow her onto the bus and into the diner. She sometimes wondered if her customers noticed.
Anyplace is better
Writer. Feminist. Public Health Advocate. Academic. Storyteller. @gdifulvio