Essays I've written


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An Atheist Talks to Her Children About Death

Sun Jul 09 2017

Once I had kids of my own, I struggled with what to teach them about God. View at crabfatmagazine »


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Ernest Hemingway Backstage at his Granddaughter’s First Dance Recital

Sat May 13 2017

This was a writing prompt that made me happy. Sometimes it's important to remember that writing is supposed to be fun. Read more »


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Underwear Regrets

Tue May 02 2017

This is one of the first flash essays I ever wrote. I still like it. Read more »


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Essay Notes on Attachment Disorder

Mon Mar 27 2017

“Essay Notes on Attachment Disorder” makes its deft way in the world as draft and fragment, beautiful in its brokenness, and yet seems to suggest the entire life, the only life, for now. View at americanliteraryreview »


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Memory Dissection: A Statue, My Father, and a Camera

Thu Mar 23 2017

The bronze statue looked almost alive—a young girl, life-sized, or nearly. Her small breasts and slim hips placed her at the start of puberty, around twelve or thirteen—we were about the same age. Her mouth was open in a perfect oval. View at roarfeminist »


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The Thesaurus Might Make Me Someone to Yearn For

Wed Dec 28 2016

Let the words be enough. View at thedrunkenllama »


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Cicadas

Wed Dec 28 2016

I had not seen my father in several years, and I had no aching desire to change that. View at thedrunkenllama »


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The Right Tap

Thu Sep 01 2016

I had forgotten how warm the water is straight out of the faucet in Key West. Open the cold tap, and you’ll get water warm enough to bathe in. The water comes down a pipe one hundred and sixty miles from Miami, solar warm under the hot sun, saturated with dissolved makeup they used to say, or pipe rust or medication probably. I drank it anyway and didn’t mind at all. View at hippocampusmagazine »


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When You Stop Inviting People Over

Mon Aug 22 2016

The first time you step on a dead fly in your bare feet the crackling snap disgusts you. You run to the bathroom, wash your foot with soap and water for ten solid minutes, then coat your heel in hand sanitizer for good measure. The presence of mashed fly interior adhered to your foot’s exterior makes you want to yak, puke, or vomit, depending on your sensibilities. View at lunalunamagazine »


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Medium

Fri Jun 10 2016

 I am medium. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, weight, and shoe-size. My brother is tall, and by tall I mean outside the bell curve.  He says he’s six-foot-nine, but my mother thinks he’s closer to six-foot-seven.  All I know is that if I stretch my hand as high as it can go, I can just reach the top of his head.  Like telling a fish story, when someone asks how tall my brother is, I just say, “he’s this big.”  Read more »


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The Poetry of 1,000 Feet

Thu Dec 03 2015

When you fly at a thousand feet, you see the world differently. Commercial planes fly at an anonymous altitude, so far up that houses become invisible. General aviation flies lower. We are able to see into your backyards and witness the things you have hidden behind the barn. View at airplanereading »


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Between the Sepals

Sun Nov 29 2015

my pink petals darkened brown I thought for the sin of my unwashed hands. Barbie doll romantic reenactments always terminated in taboo Georgia O’Keefe finger painting. View at visceraluterus »


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Copyright © 2017 Lara Lillibridge

Public domain imagery courtesy of Snappygoat.com


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