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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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Tuesday, September 1, 2020 - 13:23
High Desert Diva

Twenty people or more crowded the three tables in my granddaddy’s house in North Carolina in Thanksgiving 1964. For the first time I got to sit with the grownups at the table with the white tablecloth. I was “grown” enough not to have to sit with the babies and mommas at the card table. As I listened, I was waiting for something to add, to use my voice which I was just discovering.  I was fired up by the opinions that my father yelled at the television. We could argue in my home. About Vietnam, and…