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Post- Magazine

gone in a moment [narrative]

A few weeks ago, on a grocery run, I came across bunches of daffodils—the first sign of spring. I bought a bunch and brought them home, cradling them gently; I put them in an empty pasta jar and propped them up against the windowsill. Daffodils always remind me of home—my mother loves them and buys ...

Post- Magazine

home is a place i visit [narrative]

In my dreams, I wake up in my childhood bed. I make my way through the house that is no longer my own and find my mother sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window. The sky is a sheet of gray, a blank face. I cannot even see Diamond Head. My mother cradles a black and white portrait of an old woman ...

Post- Magazine

immateriality on the mat [feature]

At YogaSix, the breath is our Bible. Follow it, and you will find your way. Interestingly enough, though, my body doesn't like to exhale fully. There’s comfort in the tiny reservoir of air I stow away in my lungs—always there, just in case. Yet I exhale slightly and surrender a bit more to ...

Post- Magazine

a symphonic sermon [a&c]

Though I’m sure to piss off more than one Rhode Islander (assuming that any Rhode Islanders ever read this) by saying this, it seems that one of the greatest assets of going to college in Providence is its proximity to Boston. For those willing to embark on a short journey via train, bus, or car, ...

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Post- Magazine

the entropy in me [narrative]

I have always felt connected to the thermodynamic principle of entropy. I believed that my body at rest demonstrated the concept perfectly—and I now know that to be true, but not at all in the way that I originally thought. 

Post- Magazine

the case against binging [a&c]

The clock strikes midnight. We gather on the couch. For once, my mother does not fall asleep. For once, my brother comes down from his room. We turn the TV on, eagerly anticipating another installment of our ten-week-old ritual. We’re watching Showtime’s latest series, Yellowjackets. 

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Post- Magazine

a recipe for self love [lifestyle]

At the beginning of February, the lonely, single people of America drop what they're doing for a week and join a massive support group to brave the collective trauma of Valentine's Day. Dating apps see spikes of activity as desperate singles try to pair off before the big day. Others celebrate ...

Post- Magazine

(don't) be the cowboy [narrative]

My grandfather used to be a cowboy—a real one. He wore a wide-brimmed, faded brown hat and crocodile skin boots. He had a leather belt with an intricately carved sterling buckle, and he wore it every day over blue jeans and a tucked in plaid button-down. As a teenager, he spent his summers riding ...

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Post- Magazine

full house, fuller heart [a&c]

“When you’re lost out there and you’re all alone, a light is waiting to carry you home…” “Everywhere You Look” by Jesse Frederick, better known as the Full House theme song, floods me with a special type of sentimentality each time I hear it. While most people my age grew up on Hannah ...

Post- Magazine

love the day of love [narrative]

Before I relate to you how Valentine’s Day isn’t about relationship status, I must admit that I spent Valentine’s Day gobbling gnocchi decorated in melted mozzarella while seated across from my fabulous boyfriend. A last-minute 9 p.m. reservation had landed us on Federal Hill; a flame and fake ...

Post- Magazine

pandemic partners [feature]

This Q&A piece explores the narratives of two real, distinct relationships as they crest and trough before, after, and during the global pandemic. The development of these relationships coincided with the emergence and spread of Covid-19, which left partners with no choice but to turn to each other, ...

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Post- Magazine

finding my voice [a&c]

I think I melted this summer. I think I first knew some day in mid-June. I woke up particularly sweaty in the third-floor apartment in Fox Point that I was subletting for the early summer, the plants on my desk drooping under the weight of the heat. Only one of my plants could withstand the summer fever, ...

Post- Magazine

wistful whispers [a&c]

I’m on the commuter rail back from Boston when the clock strikes midnight on November 19. A hush falls over the conversation I’m having with my friends. “The album is out. I can’t listen to it,” one of them says. But I’m ready. I’m told that’s because I’m much more even-keeled than ...

Post- Magazine

in the places we call home [narrative]

Even as the first flakes of snow settle atop the dim street lamps, and even as the winter moon swallows the sun, I feel like I am falling into something warm. I have been since late August—falling, that is. Falling deeper and deeper into something like gentle love.

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