Buffalove
My dad called me while we watched in silence and I said, “I don’t want to live here anymore.”
by Ansley Kelly | Mar 3, 2023 | 0 comments
My dad called me while we watched in silence and I said, “I don’t want to live here anymore.”
by Ansley Kelly | Feb 3, 2023 | 2 comments
Like he says,”What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
by Ansley Kelly | Jan 3, 2023 | 3 comments
Both spaces have shown me the need for traditions that bring us back to joy, especially when the night is dark and the howling, frigid wind finds its way through every single-paned window and every batten board of the barn.
by Ansley Kelly | Dec 3, 2022 | 2 comments
I learned how to use the mechanical bread slicer to slice fresh loaves of garlic tuscan, and how to base-ice a buttercream celebration cake.
by Ansley Kelly | Nov 3, 2022 | 3 comments
I took an Uber Black back to my hotel just because I could.
by Ansley Kelly | Oct 3, 2022 | 2 comments
If I need a healthier item in a hurry, I can always spend my entire paycheck on just one item at the Lexington Co-op, which is located only a few blocks from my apartment.
by Ansley Kelly | Sep 3, 2022 | 2 comments
Each night I picked a spot at least a hundred yards from our tent and then listened, obsessively, for the sound of mischief.
by Ansley Kelly | Aug 3, 2022 | 2 comments
Sometimes I take my tea, and sometimes I don’t.
by Ansley Kelly | Jul 3, 2022 | 2 comments
On other nights, Dad would come out to campfires we were so fond of building, cracking open a big can of baked beans to nestle into the coals on the edge of the pit.
by Ansley Kelly | Jun 3, 2022 | 2 comments
While my purpose wasn’t the conversion of my coworker, I like that she might think about God’s interest in her life when she walks past the bananas.
by Ansley Kelly | May 3, 2022 | 3 comments
I struggle to find contentment and seek new adventures almost compulsively.
by Ansley Kelly | Apr 3, 2022 | 3 comments
It felt like we had pulled one over on the natural order of things.
by Ansley Kelly | Mar 3, 2022 | 5 comments
That’s how I felt, at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night, in a town that you may never visit—with my stethoscope around my neck, gloves on my hands, and ski boots on my feet.
by Ansley Kelly | Feb 3, 2022 | 3 comments
I learned to wriggle my fingers deep into the mud at the base of the green leek stems and to gently coax the bulbs from the earth.
by Ansley Kelly | Jan 3, 2022 | 6 comments
Death, in our lived experience, is horrifyingly final.
by Ansley Kelly | Dec 3, 2021 | 5 comments
I walked our meat department every day looking for the perfect bird on which to dote and ultimately roast to golden, crispy-skinned perfection.
by Ansley Kelly | Nov 3, 2021 | 3 comments
Then there’s hunting, and the days that dad would pull us out of school for a “family emergency” so that we could chase after dogs who chased after pheasants and then watch as their iridescent feathers caught the autumn sun.
by Ansley Kelly | Oct 3, 2021 | 7 comments
A nurse stood at my head, encouraging me to take slow breaths.
by Ansley Kelly | Sep 3, 2021 | 4 comments
I haven’t been well enough to take a trip with a friend in three years.
by Ansley Kelly | Aug 3, 2021 | 4 comments
I couldn’t remember what it felt like to have something left at the end of the day.
by Ansley Kelly | Jul 3, 2021 | 3 comments
Blind tenacity doesn’t quite seem to fit this season.
by Ansley Kelly | Jun 3, 2021 | 4 comments
This is not the place to use your energy. Smile and move on.
by Ansley Kelly | May 3, 2021 | 4 comments
I figured that she deserved to hear about one sunny day when I wasn’t in pain.
by Ansley Kelly | Apr 3, 2021 | 3 comments
I used to think that gratitude would rob me of joyful anticipation.
by Ansley Kelly | Mar 3, 2021 | 4 comments
I feel beautiful and wicked—flying fast and fearless.
by Ansley Kelly | Feb 3, 2021 | 5 comments
If all of creation is spinning towards destruction, why does anything matter at all?
by Ansley Kelly | Jan 3, 2021 | 6 comments
Even if all I managed was driving to the patrol room and re-stocking my pack, I wasn’t going home to the couch.
by Ansley Kelly | Dec 3, 2020 | 3 comments
It is remarkably easy to forget the fullness of story in each chicken breast.
by Ansley Kelly | Nov 3, 2020 | 3 comments
The rawness of this proximity to life makes me feel vulnerable, sort of like therapy but without the armchairs.
by Ansley Kelly | Oct 3, 2020 | 8 comments
Her comment broke the meditative silence of our post-dinner respite, and we stumbled into the idea with the dazed confusedness of young students in the presence of wisdom.