Creative Nonfiction by Andrea Badgley
It’s Christmas Eve morning. Brahms plays quietly on the record player, our cat Tubbles rubs her face on my pen, smudging my words, and coffee steams on the end table next to me. The sky is blueing after the black of night. My husband is in the kitchen making dough for a braided cranberry walnut … Continue reading Let the baking begin
It is black outside at 6:36am. The Christmas tree lights reflect in the dark windows like stars on the ground. Our kids do the holiday decorating, and they selected the glittery white, gold, and red ornaments this year, plus some family favorites like our son’s cheeseburger ornament, our daughter’s sparkling seashell, and my Santa sitting … Continue reading Christmas restless
One week ago, on Tuesday, I started reading William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. Within two pages I was texting friends who had read it, asking, “What the hell is going on here?” I read the first chapter — 50 pages narrated by a 33-year-old character at the development stage of a child, who … Continue reading The Sound and the Fury: wut
Standing barefoot on the bow Saturday, with my arm wrapped around the forestay and feeling the liquid world move under my feet, I fell in love. I fell in love with sailing, I fell in love with the Chesapeake (again), and I fell in love with our little boat, Egretta. That morning, after being discontent … Continue reading Falling in love
11:30am. I’m at a miniature picnic table in the autumn sun and breeze at Pandapas Pond outside of Blacksburg, Virginia. My knees hit the underside of the tabletop’s planks, but the wooden bench is warm, and I don’t mind that the table is the proper height for children rather than adults. Wind rustles leaves around … Continue reading Meditation by the pond
Finally, fall. The weather hasn’t caught up to the calendar yet — the sweat dripping down my back when I walked the garden this morning told me it is summer not autumn — but the equinox was yesterday, a hot wind is blowing, and leaves have started falling from trees. There’s no break from the … Continue reading Ramble on
