On Not Forgetting
by Chila Woychik

Some people, somewhere, I, grow a now-practiced eye roll at the slightest complaint by those who don’t know how good they have it, who forget how to thank. Some people, somewhere, I, stuffed full of rough strokes and hard years and an ache that dulls, forget how to breathe. Some people, somewhere, I, lose, lost, spirit; change, changed, faces; forget how to faith. Some people, somewhere, I, harbor strong stories we never can forget.

Chila Woychik is originally from the beautiful land of Bavaria. She has been published in numerous journals including Cimarron and Passages North, and has released an essay collection, Singing the Land: A Rural Chronology (Shanti Arts, 2020). She won Storm Cellar’s 2019 Flash Majeure Contest and Emry’s 2016 Linda Julian Creative Nonfiction Award. These days she tends sheep, chickens, and two aging barn cats, and roams the Iowan outback. She also edits the Eastern Iowa Review. Find her at www.chilawoychik.com.