The next exciting piece of news is that we have worked out a way of printing one-off copies of our beautiful Stone Soup digital issues. The first of these--the February 2018 issue--has already arrived at the warehouse, and the others are coming very soon. You can view them, and place orders and pre-orders in our online store.

Until Next Week

William

I jolt awake when I hear the stewardess’s too perky voice come over the plane’s intercom system. “We will be landing in New York in just about fifteen minutes. I hope you all have enjoyed your flight thus far…”

I zone out when she starts to ramble on about the weather conditions and time in New York. My dad realizes I’m awake and turns to me.

“Welcome home,” he says. I give him a lame smile in return and hope he accounts its lack of cheeriness for sleepiness.

But on the inside, all of me is frowning. New York is not my home. It never really was and it never will be.

Colorado is home. Colorado was where I could lie on the roof in a sleeping bag and stare at the stars for hours. Colorado was where I kept a collection of newspaper articles and random doodles in a loose floorboard in my room. Colorado was where I grew up, despite the fact that I was born here, and where anything that ever mattered happened to me.

*          *          *

The airport we touch down in is like any other. Filled with people, smelling like dry bagels and tasteless coffee, and crowded with suitcases rolling along always clean hallways. As we make our way through the airport, Dad proceeds to tell me of his childhood here, the things he did, and the neighborhood he grew up in.

I keep a few steps ahead of him so that he can’t see the grimace that contorts my face. Dad is just beginning a speech that I’m sure will go on for at least ten more minutes about where we’re moving in, and I can’t stand it anymore... /more