by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | May 31, 2019 | Memoir, Short Stories
If my family was a box of crayons, it would be 96 pack with the built-in sharpener—that not everyone puts to good use. We have our primary colors and pastels. Our neons, metallics, and psychedelics. No matter how vast the assortment, a few stray colors just don’t seem... 
by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | May 31, 2019 | Memoir, Short Stories
The earthy fragrance of coffee tugs me back to tender times. To honey-sweet and tear-salted moments spent with the women who have graced my life, steaming mugs between us on one or another kitchen table. In my family, girls of three or four got coffee while we... 
by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | May 31, 2019 | Memoir, Short Stories
When I was in first grade, we moved in the middle of the year from Illinois to Indiana. My dad’s drunken antics had finally offended the manager of the battery plant where he worked. So it was, once again, time for us to relocate so that he would have a new batch of...