Roland Snider
Bio
I'm a storyteller from South Texas. I hope you enjoy
Stories (2)
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My Brother
It wasn’t eight in the morning and the kitchen was already hot, sticky, and miserable when I walked in. Texas weather was never what you wanted it to be, but in August it was the worst. My Aunt Helen was standing in a thin yellow sundress in front of the oven, sweating, and waiting for what smelled like biscuits to finish. She turned and looked at me and smiled.
By Roland Snider5 years ago in Fiction
A World Without
My earliest memory is one of my Great-grandmother sitting across the dining room table from my mother. It was a few days from my birthday, and the mornings were already turning hot and sticky, telling us that April had arrived in Texas. My Great-grandmother was speaking quietly, as though it was important to her that I didn’t hear what it was that she was saying. She was telling my mother that parenthood is hard. How all we are is sacrifice and that a life with one of us was going to be a life filled with telling herself that she was not going being able to do the things that you want to do or go the places that you want to go and telling her that the way things now were better for everyone, including me.
By Roland Snider5 years ago in Fiction
