by Jan Fallon | Non-fiction
“You look beautiful when you cry,” my mother said looking into my glistening brown eyes. I was no stranger to tears. I had experiences as a young girl that made crying come easy. Whenever I was hurt, afraid, even embarrassed, my face would contort against my will,...
by Jan Fallon | Non-fiction
Every time I see a crumpled or folded up piece of tissue I think of Mom. She tucked them into at least one pocket of every article of clothing she wore and in the cushions of the furniture she sat in. They irritated me! Wet and shredded in the washing machine,...
by Jan Fallon | Non-fiction, Published
Chuck and I met on November 19, 1983 in Dearborn, Michigan—a suburb due west of Detroit. It was a blind date arranged by mutual friends and I was blind with excitement. Especially after meeting him. When he came to the door, dark curly hair met by a beard trimmed into...
by Jan Fallon | Fiction & Poetry
Breathing HopeThere are a thousand peoplewalking far and nighWith noses pointed north so faryou wonder what’s so highPeople watch, and tell the tale”Their heads are in the clouds”Really they just hope to seeup above the shroudBreathing hope pulls you...
by Jan Fallon | Non-fiction
“It’s NOT about aliens!” This is my adamant response to the film, Signs by M. Night Shyamalan. In fact, in each of Shyamalan’s films, Signs, The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, The Village, I have learned to pay attention to the underlying meanings, the personal, intimate...
