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    We are swimming across a pool. On my back I can look up and see the bright turquoise sky winking in and out of the ivory buildings. My friend turns over athletic arms. Face down; she turns to breath, correct, precise. I can see her shoulders turn in their sockets to pull through the water. Water takes the teeth grinding anxiety and floats it off, exorcising demons of fatigue and confusion.

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    Honeydew Bridge, Humboldt County

    When I turned fifty, I had recovered from busting my ACL on the ski mountain. My horse was sold. My son was off to school. I was not yet a principal at my school. Deep in my gut was a burning irritation with life that I could not soothe.

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    Grocery Store Heaven

    I’d been working at the Piggly-Wiggly about six weeks when Mr. Blocker threw the can. I was stocking TP when I first saw it sailing over the paper products aisle, slow motion like a movie. It was a 26 ounce can of Delmonte baby peas with the green label.

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Welcome to my website. See my About and my blog. I respond to emails and love to review books. Find my reviews in the Southern Review of Books. Email me at nhwilliard@nhwilliard.com. More content is forthcoming.

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My Latest Blog Post:

Abiding the Liminal

Thursday, October 8, 2020 - 15:17
Fall Leaves

In so many ways I am obsessed by the concept of the liminal, the threshold of change. The dictionary definition – barely perceptible, or being in an intermediate state, these only begin to open the meanings of this word in so many worlds – color theory, psychology, anthropology, spirituality and myth. Betwixt and between - at the threshold, at the crossroads, neither one not the other. Neither an elder nor a child, not belonging nor alone, a shapeshifter…