On the first morning of summer vacation, Mom burst into my room, flung open the curtains, and demanded I wake up and get dressed. Groggy and squinting from the explosion of unwelcome sunlight, I coaxed my twelve-year-old limbs over the edge of the bed and inserted them, one by one, into the garments strewn at its foot, assuming I was being rousted for Saturday waffles. Instead, Mom shoved a dollar in my hand and dispatched me to the Thriftway on a suicide mission.
These words comprise the opening passage of Ron’s prize-winning personal essay published in the Summer 2016 Edition of The Coachella Review. You can read the entire story by clicking On Top of Old Sparky.
© 2017 Ron Dulaney