Fatigue

The day I wound a rope around my neck and jumped off the washing machine wasn’t even the worst day of that week. It started when I met my best friend Helen at McDonald’s for coffee.

“It’s your Harold,” she said. “He’s having an affair.”

I gotta tell ya, I laughed so hard, coffee came out my nose, and it was hot! “Come on,” I said. Harold doesn’t have the stamina to have an affair."

But he was.

And she was our daughter's college roommate.

And our daughter approved.

And I was too tired to divorce him.

So I left.

From Guest Contributor Pat Tyrer

Pat is a writer who hikes and watches birds when the sun is up and star gazes when it’s not. When not reading or writing, she can be found out walking with her dog Emma. Her work has appeared in Readers’ Digest, Quiet Mountain Essays, Black Fox Literary Magazine, among others. She has published two poetry books: Creative Hearts (Path Publishing) and Western Spaces, Western Places (Local Gems Press).

Pickled Confectionery

Anyone who's been to the wrong side of West Virginia knows that just about anything can be pickled. The shop windows are lined with jars of pickled vegetables, pickled rattlesnakes, pickled squirrels, pickled acorns. They'll even take candy and Twinkies and preserve them for wintertime.

My grandfather was from West Virginia and he would boast they used to eat the pickled leather of worn-through boots. I'm not sure if he was telling the truth or not, but it makes me feel fortunate that today we have the option of eating at McDonald's. Though I can imagine pickled hamburgers are next.