Personal Essays
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2023/10/priscilla-du-preez-mU6U3pFQHo0-unsplash-300x200.jpg)
The Boundary Lines of My Broken Body
This essay originally appeared on Calla Press Literary Journal. Somewhere between rage-cleaning the kitchen and a ten-minute tidy, I decide it’s time. I reach into
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2023/09/joanna-lopez-vTvPzcMVzmc-unsplash-300x200.jpg)
Lessons from My Garden
The leaves are starting to take a turn toward their fall colors here in Ohio, but I’m still gathering zinnias in my garden. The tree
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2023/08/IMG_8551-scaled-e1691178185389-300x245.jpeg)
Gifts Forged in Grief
When plunking piano keys and singing at the top of my lungs turned to boredom, I asked to go outside. “Sure, baby. By the way,
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2020/05/christin-hume-505823-unsplash-300x200.jpg)
I Didn’t Choose the Writing Life
I know of a sacred place—sacred to me anyway. Walk alongside the rose bushes by my Mamaw’s dusty blue house, pass by the strawberry garden
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2020/02/1AF1AFE5-95C9-41C8-9630-3AA070066CFC-300x200.jpeg)
Will I Still Sing as Loud?
After lying in a dentist chair for three hours, I finally walked to the front desk to check out. What was done was done—no turning
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2023/10/priscilla-du-preez-mU6U3pFQHo0-unsplash-300x200.jpg)
The Boundary Lines of My Broken Body
This essay originally appeared on Calla Press Literary Journal. Somewhere between rage-cleaning the kitchen and a ten-minute tidy, I decide it’s time. I reach into
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2023/09/joanna-lopez-vTvPzcMVzmc-unsplash-300x200.jpg)
Lessons from My Garden
The leaves are starting to take a turn toward their fall colors here in Ohio, but I’m still gathering zinnias in my garden. The tree
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2023/08/IMG_8551-scaled-e1691178185389-300x245.jpeg)
Gifts Forged in Grief
When plunking piano keys and singing at the top of my lungs turned to boredom, I asked to go outside. “Sure, baby. By the way,
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2020/05/christin-hume-505823-unsplash-300x200.jpg)
I Didn’t Choose the Writing Life
I know of a sacred place—sacred to me anyway. Walk alongside the rose bushes by my Mamaw’s dusty blue house, pass by the strawberry garden
![](https://brittleeallen.com/app/uploads/2020/02/1AF1AFE5-95C9-41C8-9630-3AA070066CFC-300x200.jpeg)
Will I Still Sing as Loud?
After lying in a dentist chair for three hours, I finally walked to the front desk to check out. What was done was done—no turning