Topics | Childhood | The Sun Magazine #3

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Childhood

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Luminescence

In the backseat on long car rides home from my grandmother’s house in southern Illinois, I cataloged light sources in the dark: gazing at flare towers burning above oil wells, watching the taillights of faster cars shrink to pinpoints, following the sweep of flood lamps up the domes of concrete grain silos.

By Steve Edwards August 2022
Fiction

Blue Ladder

My uncle finally kicked me out, and I was living in the twenty-four-hour Kroger on Fairhaven Avenue in Tustin, California, pilfering food and sleeping at the coffee bar. One day Mr. Muniz pushed a cart through the frozen-foods section where I was fanning myself, and he stopped. I’d gotten ugly, my face wasn’t right, and I could tell he was thinking, What the hell?

By Bruce McKay August 2022
The Dog-Eared Page

Plastic: A Personal History

How can I find a way to praise / it? Do the early inventors & embracers / churn with regret?

By Elizabeth Bradfield August 2022
Readers Write

The Bus

A fifth-grade bully, a blossoming romance, a late-night crash

By Our Readers August 2022
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Some Notes On Fathers And Sons

I learned how to be a man by modeling the behavior of my father, and then other men. What I don’t know is how my son has modeled me, and that’s creating a commotion in my heart.

By Gary Percesepe July 2022
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

White Lines

We divided ourselves up until the teams were formed correctly, evenly. In other words, until the white kids were satisfied. No one had declared them the leaders, but, like most enduring traditions, the rule had become quietly understood, rooted in our fledgling muscles and minds.

By Emilio Carrero July 2022
Poetry

Dudley Ball

The red hair and freckles, puffy cheeks / and constant perspiration amplified / his otherness. No one spoke to him. / But why do I see his face so clearly now, / the fear and loneliness in his eyes? / The faces of all the others I’ve forgotten.

By John Brehm July 2022
Fiction

Sticks And Stones

In 1986 I was the Horse Girl of St. Margaret’s, the tallest girl in sixth grade, with dark-brown hair I tossed like a mane.

By Erin Almond July 2022
Poetry

At Sixty-Five

This morning I fell back / into deep snow / and dug myself into a snow angel. / Yeah. I didn’t tell anyone. I mean, / c’mon, right?

By Jim Daniels June 2022
Readers Write

Bikes

Learning to ride, falling down, getting back on

By Our Readers June 2022