Entries by Lindsey Parker

And Back Again

Logan Airport. Nineteen-year-old Masterson Peters stood in line at customs, his backpack hanging down his legs as if it was humping him doggy-style. His Dockers t-shirt, which had started out blue, had turned a dingy grey in the last four months, the elaborate anchor logo barely visible any longer. As he passed weight from one […]

Mind Your Body: Quit While You’re Behind

This nonfiction piece was originally published by Psychology Today. “Winners never quit and quitters never win.” Not quite. There comes a point, if a goal is implausible, when it’s healthier to give up and switch to a new target, evidence suggests. The key is adaptability, explains psychologist Carsten Wrosch. True, most people who pursue goals […]

100-Word Flash Fiction: Reducing Community Illness by Thirty Percent

A man with painted cheeks ducks behind a clothesline curtain with feigned urgency. Chuckling kids sit cross-legged in swept dirt. Girls bounce siblings, pointing at the man as he emerges. Adjusting his waistband, he glances back and pinches his nose. Laughter. He wipes his hands on his shirt and steps in place, swinging his arms. […]

The Fir Tree of the Right

This work of short fiction was written in response to a debate I had with someone last fall. I told myself I would soften the ending when (if?) I calmed down. I’m still waiting for the spirit to move me. The holidays were coming. It was her favorite time of the year. She thought about […]

Self-compassion may matter more than self-esteem

This nonfiction piece was originally published for syndication by LiveScience. A charming animated baby, Kristin Neff’s son Rowan retreated into himself as a toddler, losing his few words and becoming prone to inexplicable screaming fits. There are numerous ways Neff could have reacted to Rowan’s 2004 diagnosis of autism. She could have buried her emotions, […]

The Property

This short story was submitted to the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, hosted by Middlebury College.  I can’t say when I started watching the house or why. If pressed, I would blame the windows and, of course, my own proximity. It was one of those new houses, built to look like a small, converted barn, although, […]