How to Stop Your Little Sister from Being a Brat

When it’s almost dinnertime, come upstairs from the basement, which is also your bedroom. You co-opted it when you were sixteen, tired of sharing a room with your brothers. You didn’t ask permission but your mother didn’t argue. No one ever argues with you. You’re the man of the house.

Your mother is still making dinner, so go to the living room, where four of your five siblings are watching TV.

Lie on the floor on your side, elbow bent, hand cupping your head.

Your youngest sister, 9 years younger than you, comes down the steps and goes into the dining room. The keyboard cover thuds open as she sits down at the piano.

Everyone groans as she begins to hammer on the keys. The others yell to your mother, but you know she will never take their side. Practicing the piano will always take precedence over the TV.

You lean forward and turn the volume on the TV all the way down. Sitting up, you put your finger to your lips and your brothers and sisters stop yelling. Their curiosity is evident.

You call out to your sister.

"Denise?"

"WHAT!?!"

"Why don't you come in and watch TV with us? We'd love to have you!"

You hear her laugh. You hear the thud of the keyboard cover as she shuts it. You turn the volume back up.

The author’s brother, Kevin

-Denise McDonald still has the upright piano that she learned to play as a child. It sounds a little funky, but that might be her. She lives near the beach in NJ with her husband. She is not on Facebook but she is on Instagram. One of these days, she's going to get herself a website.

Peanut Butter Crackers

Mom would place a box of Salerno saltine crackers, a large jar of smooth Peter Pan Peanut Butter along with a couple of sticks of Blue Bonnet margarine on the kitchen table, putting my older brothers and sister in charge of breakfast. The center of the table had a stack of comics for our morning reading. Coffee was bubbling in the percolator on the table’s edge.

My oldest brother Rich would open the box of crackers to begin the process. He would cut a wedge off the margarine and spread it across the crackers, salty side in. My other brother Pat would slide a knife full of peanut butter on a separate cracker and press the buttered side together with the peanut butter one. My older sister Ruth would pour us each black coffee while I watched the assembled crackers rise on a plate like a Jenga tower before my two brothers decided we had enough.

We would each grab a stack and dip them in our coffee, watching the oil seep across the surface. I loved to squeeze my crackers to make margarine ‘worms’ curl out through the holes. Speaking was at a minimum while we dunked crackers in coffee, ate, traded comics and refilled coffee cups. It was the start of our day.

Two more kids and a half dozen apartments later, Mom would reminisce how she kept us healthy with the peanut butter meals we consumed. She had gotten the tip from a woman she worked with during World War Two when rationing was in place. “Protein keeps you going and peanut butter was one item we didn’t have a problem getting,” she said. “I did what I had to do and you all turned out fine.”

- Kathy Doherty has a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing from Metropolitan State University Denver. She has published work in airplanereading.org, Metrosphere, Foliate Oak, Hot Metal Press and One Million Stories Anthology. She lives in Parker, Colorado with her amazing Siberian Forest cat, Vladimir. 

Growing Avocados Like Asa

Cut carefully around your avocado, longways. Twist to separate and spoon out half the insides. Spread onto toast and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Over the next twelve hours, the other half will brown. You can't bring yourself to eat it so you peel away the gummy, dried exterior, pry loose the pit and toss the rest with regret. Clean the pit gently with warm water. 

Reach into the spice cabinet for the twenty year old box of toothpicks you stole from your grandparents' house and will never empty. (Your sister will, though, and store it, flattened, between photos of you at her first birthday party.) Pierce the pit with three toothpicks spread equidistantly, careful not to snap these tiny supports in half. During rainy months they'll bend on insertion and you will say to no one, "oh, crumb."

The author at her first birthday, with brother Asa, age 13.

Suspended in a half-full cup of water, the pit sprouts roots and stem if you shuttle it from sunbeam to sunbeam. 

Eat half an avocado on toast once a week. 

Leggy, an undeniable eyesore, their roots will circle the bottoms of jam jars and promotional glasses from The Spaghetti Factory. Change the water weekly but never plant a single one.

-Stefanie Le Jeunesse