Letters from the Lunchbox began at a funeral. A little odd I know, but mixed in with the tears of that day I found a moment of hope. His name was Brent. He died at the age of 44 after being diagnosed with cancer. He was the steadfast husband of a good friend. Before the…
“I love snakes,” my 7-year-old neighbor said to me. “Sometimes I catch them and kiss them and I don’t even wash my lips.”
It’s two days before Christmas and it’s raining. The intermittent islands of snow leftover from last week’s storm have turned into mush and mud.
I am captivated by all things Christmas. My house, inside and out, reflects my slight obsession with the red and green holiday.
I’m sweating. The Arc Trainer console displays a digital steep hill as I press my Nike clad feet harder on the foot pedals. I’m…
It’s a Thursday night in February. Remnants of crusty snow dot the lawn, the ground is frozen, and tomorrow is garbage day. I’m wearing…
A shroud of clouds wrapped the sky in gray. Throughout the day sizeable snowflakes white-washed the familiar landscape into a foreign terrain. The afternoon…
She came home to die when the peaches hung heavy on the tree limbs. My siblings and I readied her room, put sheets on…
November 15, 2021
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January 31, 2022
December 13, 2021
December 6, 2021
November 29, 2021
Raelene Burnett, a believer that stories can unite and inspire, has been a clandestine writer for most of her life. A Disneyland devotee and a lover of hammocks on tropical beaches, she seeks to shine a small light in a dark world. Thanks for being here.