Author Archives: Heidi Stauff throughsinaisand

About Heidi Stauff throughsinaisand

Ultimately ending up in Atlanta, Heidi's creative impulses followed many paths. She delivered middle-class, white-girl, angst to tens and twenties of Generation-Xers through the now defunct rock-band, Belljar. She designed hundreds of dresses for Disney-bound little girls. She birthed two babies she now homeschools, lost and then found her faith again, and writes about all of it in her free time: which is usually after midnight with a glass or three of wine.

On Forsaking the brethren

Concerned relatives warned me not to but I grew tired  like a tree  falling in the forest  when no one is around to hear it each time left with less  than I started with until now there is nothing  but … Continue reading

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Fallen

I’ve been here before. But I was younger then and ricocheted off the concrete. Now, I lie like a stone and calculate the risks in standing back up, of leaving the permanence of pavement, and joining the long line of … Continue reading

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On not being Dutch

  Taped to the sides of their metal desks lists on pink post-its written in sixth-grade-girl-bubble-hand  names of golden-haired girls all starting with Vander Vanderzee, Vanderbaan, Vanderbeek, Vansomeren. The friend list I never made having hair and eyes the color … Continue reading

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Protected: Objects of Pleasure

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Temporary Attractions

In August they appear, shimmering in the highway haze. Metal caravans refracting the sun. They set up in plain view. In parking lots or the rented dirt of fair grounds. By nightfall, they’re up. Red lights running. The kind of … Continue reading

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The Good Day

I found my grandfather’s funeral program in the junk drawer, looking for batteries to put in the remote-control car my son had just unwrapped for Christmas. I found it underneath the Chinese take-out menus, phone books and old coupons; he … Continue reading

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The Composition of Dust

On Saturdays she stays inside to wipe away the residue of the work-week covering every surface of the house like dust. She scrubs and scours every seam in between feeding machines cycles of dirty then clean. All the while she … Continue reading

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