"If you could do anything -- forget intelligence, physical skill, money, or talent -- if you could do whatever you wanted and it would work, what would you do?" my mom asked. I sat on the periwinkle painted iron gliding bench thing, the kind that leaves weird designs all over your thighs when you wear…
“So, I kicked him in the balls”: A Vaccine Story
The thing about living on a farm and doing exactly none of the work is that I'm 0% invested. I get to gaze out my window at galloping horses, drive down a winding road fluttering with apple blossoms and waving pink cherry trees, and smile at the new baby lambs that keep appearing on my…
The Eyes Have Had It
I'm just as sick of saying/typing/thinking "The Pandemic" as you are. So, let's call it something else. Like, Jessica. "Are you alive?" Jessica has wrecked a lot of stuff. We don't need to list them. I've lived on islands and in deserts much of my adult life; isolation isn't the problem. While I've had a…
The Silent Current From Within Project
When we were small in Alabama, my father took us camping up on Green Mountain. I had one job: Don't get lost. Camping on Green Mountain was The Wild. We drove up the road from the tornado-stricken valley where our house repeatedly survived, through dense vibrant forest, all the way to the top, to the…
Home is Where the Art Is
It hasn't been the best year, but I can honestly say I've had worse. However, 2020 wins for Grossest Reoccurring Question in the Fishburne House : "Why are there still slugs in my kitchen?!" * The Little House, by Virginia Lee Burton, was one of my favorites as a kid. I was a huge believer…
Publications
Find me online at such fine establishments as these and more on my website, https://www.christinarauhfishburne.com FICTION The Coachella Review Blog: Aperture Ekphrastic Review: Equilibrium (as part of the Vermeer Challenge) Ekphrastic Review: Norma and Wallace (Flash version) NONFICTION Hash Journal: Dragons, Krakens, Good moms, and Other mythical creatures daily inspired life: HOpe Helps Waterwheel…
The Bluebell Project (continued): In Which We End Where We Began
"Why are you crushing those flowers?" "I'm not crushing them--I'm pressing them. To try and preserve them." "Oh." (the "whatever, Mom" was implied) "They're bluebells! Like Uncle Charlie's album named after the Brontes' poems! Remember the four kids who had great imaginations like you guys and wrote--" "Can I play Minecraft now? I ate lunch."…
The Bluebell Project (continued) : Diary Papers 3 & 4
1997 When I went to college it was my family who did the leaving. I stayed in Alabama and they all moved to Virginia where my father would be priest at a new church. Jeans were still loose enough to be recognized as pants and email was not yet a bodily function as necessary as…
The Bluebell Project (continued): Diary Papers 1 & 2
When we first moved here, and then often during lockdown, I walked the footpaths behind my house. Frequently frustrated or a little sad, and starving to be uninterrupted, I followed the farm road back through the barley fields to the small woods near the crossroads—just beyond the hedges where it turns to what I call…
In Which We Meet The Bluebell Project
March 17, 2020 Christina: Are we still on for tomorrow? The Pink Lady: Yes. Christina: Have you worked out any sizes or fonts yet? The Pink Lady: No. I prefer to do that when you arrive. Christina (panicking): Ok, great! I don't typically play fast and loose with long term creative planning involving other collaborators…
