The other day I drove past the home I grew up in, which has since been replaced by a three-story home and a family that takes their Christmas lights down during the appropriate time of year. In the backyard, there is a trampoline beside the deck, surrounded by rows of rhododendron my grandfather planted. As I looked at the house, I realized that how things were before—what I held close and the people who raised me—haven’t remained static nor have my relationships with them. Some have died, and some remain. Some have abandoned that street for a new one, making room for new jobs, neighbors, and loved ones. In simple ways, I’ve moved on, too. But sometimes, this moving on is not intentional. Sometimes the elimination of memories is accidental. Like certain thoughts that cloud and fade within themselves, sometimes we forget the intricacies of what we once held true.
In her book Just Kids, Patti Smith writes, “I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates...” Like Smith, the authors in this issue have found a way to address the vagueness of their own memories, relationships, and loss with remarkable vividness—they have allowed them the freedom to change over time, allowed the shapes to morph into different colors. They have allowed their stories and the characters within them to communicate the burdens of their previous and futures selves. They have let us in.
Hannah and I hope that you enjoy the pieces in this issue and the impressions that they bring. We hope they stay with you as they have with us. We are honored to make a home for them and are so thrilled to share them with you.
With warmth,
Jesse Ewing-Frable & Hannah Newman
Sweet Tree Review