Our Father, Who Has Been in Hell.

My Daddy doesn’t cry. Growing up, I never saw him cry even once. Oh, his voice faltered for one tenuous moment while speaking at my sweet Grandpa’s funeral in the old church on Hubbard Street, but no tears fell. This is, in no small part, why I find it violently disturbing … [Read more...]

Mama Always Said…

I'd like you to meet my Mama. Her name is Cindy. She is feisty and sarcastic and ENTIRELY inappropriate. She makes a decadent chocolate cake that will change your whole entire life, and when I was little she religiously danced to Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies work … [Read more...]

Changing the Story. [END IT.]

We were on Skype, she working in Nepal and me in my air-conditioned New York living room.My computer screen flickered, and in utter disbelief, I had to ask my friend to repeat herself.She said it again, slowly—Ashley, there are entire villages in Nepal where there are no women … [Read more...]

The Shadow.

I was carrying a large pizza. It was dark outside-after ten o’clock at night. I had been sitting at home waiting for news-any news about Ian all day long. Just that morning we had been told that he did not, in fact, have mono or an odd strain of the flu—he had cancer. Wait … [Read more...]

The Family Tree.

My little brother Stephen graduates from college tomorrow morning, and so Kellan and I are hopping a Raleigh-bound flight and heading home for Christmas early! Stephen is only a year younger than I am, but already has approximately eleventy billion degrees, every single one of … [Read more...]

The Bald Ballerina.

The day we shaved off Ian’s curly hair, he didn’t do it alone. My brother Stephen, cousin Justin and my Uncle Anthony shaved their heads bald right along side of him, [Daddy’s head was, shall we say, already shaved? ;)] because in my family, we will elbow our way right into when … [Read more...]