nonfiction Category

The Collection of Strangers

I just got back from walking the dog and am seated at the long wooden table on the balcony with my second espresso, reflecting on my family talent for collecting strangers. We’ve always done it. Some of the collections have been more successful than others.

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Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Hooray! It’s the 1st of April and this is not an April Fool’s joke. April’s an important month in my world.

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The Path to Paradise

On the corner of the block, at the meeting of two streets, at the end of the lane lived Veronica and Dorothy. Non and Dor, as they were known to everyone in the neighbourhood, were two delightful older women who shared a home. They’d been friends for most of their lives, and when Non’s husband […]

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What starts with ‘F’ and ends with ‘uck’?

Q: What starts with ‘F’ and ends with ‘-uck’? When my eldest was still shorter than me, still small enough to clamber up onto my lap, take my face in his chubby little hands, and very seriously demand my attention, we lived in a remote town in the far northwest of Australia. (Now he demands […]

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First Kiss

“Close your eyes,” he says, all bravado and fifth-grade-boy machismo. “What? Don’t be dumb,” I say. “Just close your eyes. I’ve got a present for you.”

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Not Drowning, Waving

“It’s going swimmingly,” she said while catching the lifejacket and wrangling two teens.

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Leader of the Pack

Storytelling and the awareness of the power of words started early for me.

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Random Thoughts of an Angry House Cleaner

Housecleaning is not a benign activity. It’s hard to stay calm and centred when you’re vacuuming a floor, mopping with vigour, or scrubbing a shower. Those are inherently violent and aggressive activities. *~*~*

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The Last Thread

I didn’t post in this week’s YeahWrite Microprose #312 grid, but I love flash/microprose and wanted to play along with other YeahWriters.

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Then and Now

Gather round, grab a bean bag, get comfortable. I’ve got some things to get off my chest, so let’s start with my story of expatriation and repatriation.   On the 1st of February 1975, my parents and I arrived in Australia from Brunei as new migrants. My mother was 41, my father 47. I wasn’t […]

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