Anna Gibbs

Essay

The Igloo

When evening comes, a heavy blue has fallen over the valley where we are renting a house. From where I wash dishes in the kitchen, I look out over a wide field. On the far side a stream runs along the base of a small mountain covered in pine trees wearing coats and hats of …

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Loss for words

winter, conifers, sunset

For some, COVID-19 meant time and energy; it led to a surge of creative output. For others – and I fell into this category – the pandemic has been stifling. I hid away from the virus in my house, but I couldn’t hide from its invasion as a subject. Every time I sat down to …

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Lacerations

It had started to snow and I put the kettle on to boil some water for tea while I put on my snow boots and a heavy winter coat. It felt like a snow specific for me; just a few nights before, I had stood next to my car after I parked in my driveway, …

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Tis the Season for “Wildly Sentimental Christmas Chick Flicks”

Every December I hunker down for my annual viewing of – no, not Rudolph. Not the Grinch, nor Charlie Brown. None of these, yet a classic in its own right: “A Christmas Kiss” (2011). The movie follows an interior design assistant who is working late one night when her elevator falls and she finds herself …

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Why I try to avoid the H-bomb

The summer before my freshman year of college. I’m working as waitstaff for a catering company in my hometown. Tonight’s wedding is at Turner Hill, a brick mansion overlooking a golf course. It’s crowded and hot; I’m wearing a full black tuxedo and sweating thoroughly. I’m also eyeing an attractive, curly-haired man working at the …

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The last day of summer

On this last day of summer, I count coins. I sit on my childhood bedroom carpet and dump out a few hundred dirt-caked nickels and pennies and dimes and some broken rubber bands. When I was younger, my weekly $3 allowance came in the form of coins. My dad gave me his stash of colorful …

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