A blend of memory, meaning, and a little imagination — these essays wander through the emotional messiness of everyday life.
It was hard to remember my life before Pentecost. Some memories stood out—like the time I broke my nose playing jump rope, the ‘D’ my third-grade teacher gave me for cursive, and the merciless teasing we inflicted on our fourth-grade teacher. But everything else faded. One day, we were...
A flash fiction story unfolding over lukewarm coffee and sharp words. Set in a busy coffee shop, a writer overhears drama over coffee
One childhood memory still echoes louder than the rest—a single phone call that changed everything. In that moment, time slowed, voices blurred, and nothing felt the same again. This is the story of what I heard, what I felt, and how one quiet call carved itself into the center of my growing up.
Agnes Elizabeth Franks Powell Peebles (1902-1979). She stood on the far right at my parents’ wedding–Grandma Peebles. In reality, she was my great-grandmother. Each year I would spend time at Grandma Peebles’ house. It wasn’t a very big house. It was a rectangular house with...
Before my first 5K run, I used to notice how runners in the Olympics and at track meets looked so lean and perfectly in sync. Their arms and legs pumped rhythmically. Torsos slightly bent. Nostrils flaring on the inhale, mouths parted on the exhale. You could even see their abs expand and contract...
I was the target of a family prank at a solemn memorial stop on a road trip — and I didn’t see it coming. A short story about unexpected laughs, growing up, and never living it down.
Vicky Edwards is a writer, storyteller, and lifelong observer of life’s everyday messes. She blogs about memories, grandkids, life, and all the weird little moments in between—some of it’s true(ish), some of it’s not, but it’s all accompanied by a tear or a smile. She’s written for The DeQueen Dispatch, contributed to national history projects, and served as an editorial assistant for The Lindenwood Review.