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On Looking Up

By Jennie LaFortune

I took a picture the other day. It has become a still-life vignette of my morning hours. It’s ritualistic at this point and I wonder if the students are as bored of the pre-first-period predictability of it all as I am. The picture is an out-and-out modern siren-call to Rembrandt. Only in that it’s a …

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Waxing and Waning

By Jennie LaFortune

I’ve been having a hard time putting words to paper – or screen – lately. My voice and stories feel tied up or dried up. Like even as I write this, I have little to no gas in my writing engine. My words feel too blah, too fake, too whine-y, too…absent. This isn’t an unfamiliar …

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It’s Always on Top of a Mountain

By Jennie LaFortune

If you walk out the front door of my house you can head east up hill, or west to flatter pavement.  It’s usually night, when I go on a walk, as the crickets steady their ritualistic chant, and the sun is a blaze of orange.  The other night I chose to go up hill.  I …

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The Mountain Remains Still

By Catherine Arveseth

It is 8:15 PM, my husband is out of town, three glasses of carnations are drinking colored water on the windowsill – part of a science fair project that needed observation and photographing fifteen minutes ago. I’m in the middle of bathing two rowdy boys who just chewed up my favorite taper candle, and my girls are swinging a laundry hamper in circles at such a speed I am positive the hamper will rocket out of their hands and into the wall, leaving a heckuva high-velocity dent.

“Please put the hamper away and get into your pajamas,” I say.

There is no response. No intimation that the hamper is going to stop spinning and land in the closet where it belongs.

“Please put the hamper down and get into your pajamas and come upstairs.”

I’m using my firm voice now. That one that says I mean it.

Foolishly thinking they will listen to me, I head upstairs to comb third daughter’s wet hair. A few seconds later I hear a horrid thud. The perpetrator comes upstairs and asks me not to get mad when she informs me the hamper did indeed fly into the wall. She’s not sure how… it just did.

The dent is bigger than I imagined.

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On Stillness, Stagnancy, and Coming Up For Air

By Jennie LaFortune

I sat in a long line of cars leaving Little Cottonwood Canyon and reality puffed in my face. The stagnant top layer of sludge suffocated the town nestled between mountains.  “Hearing about the crappy air from all the weather people  is one thing”, I practically shouted to my friend, “but this, this is ridiculous”.  While …

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