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Calista Marchand-Nazzaro
Bio
Always learning and always evolving. I’m a creative, an idea person, a thinker, a dreamer, and working on being a doer. Many interests. Varied content. Food. Sustainability. Comedy. Poetry. Music.
Stories (90/0)
Family Tree
John has always looked out the same window overlooking the same yard – a yard of his ancestors’. This land has been the home of his family for many generations now and although he has always known it, he only really thinks about it upon occasion.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
A Story of Finding One’s Way
I hear people ask where I go for the winter. If an answer is provided, it is that I fly South. This may be true, or it may not. I do not know which way happens to be South and which way happens to be North. I know that deep inside my being, I feel the need to go, so I go. I go where my instinct tells me to go. I go until I get where I am meant to be, and until it feels right, I do not stop.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
The End of an Era
A young girl, somewhere around the age of ten, had a dream one night that would awaken her to the harsh reality of the world she was born into. Where exactly she was residing is unimportant in the grand scheme of things; she could be here or there, and it would happen just the same. It was a usual night, and she was dreaming a usual dream (if such a thing even exists). Whatever one of your classic dreams is, just imagine that is what she was seeing. The last bit of dream, just before she woke up, is the part she knew was different. She could feel the difference. It wasn’t really a dream, but it also was surely not physically happening. She now believes it was a spiritual meeting of sorts – that seems to be the only explanation that feels right.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Earth
Mary Gold’s Marigold Tea
Mary Gold was named after the marigold flower – big surprise there. With the last name of Gold and a yard full of those bright sunshiny flowers, what other choice did her parents really have? She quickly learned to embrace her namesake and began tending to the marigolds in the yard. She absolutely loved them. She loved the way they looked when she held her face close by the bright yellow petals; it was like the whole world was made of soft, delicate layers of sunshine. Unlike most, she loved the way their musky scent perfumed her when she walked between the plants. She loved the sound they made when the wind blew their leaves. She loved the feeling of the fluffy petals beneath her fingers. She especially loved the way they tasted.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
Ellen and The Box
Ellen’s very first memory is vividly marked by the presence of a box, one wrapped simply in brown paper. She was a baby and sitting squarely in front of her carrier is that box. She remembers smiling and giggling at the sight of it. She remembers feeling a presence. Ellen wondered for the longest time why her brain has clung to that memory, formed so early that most would say it is unlikely to even have occurred. Most people don’t remember events from that early on in their lives and if they do, it is something of great significance, usually a trauma, but Ellen distinctly remembers the box, the giggles, and the feeling that it was looking right at her.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
Chocolate Cake or Duct Tape
“Chocolate cake it is,” she thinks. After just having endured another torturous four-hour screaming match, Eliza comes to the same conclusion as she always does: “Greg and I are just a little upset right now, but some homemade chocolate cake will fix it.” To her, it’s really just simple logic.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Humans
Musings of a Forgotten Life
One squirrel zooms through the grass, followed closely by another. They make their way up into a tree, flying from skinny branch to skinny branch until they reach the next tree and scurry straight down. Ah, they’re still growing, testing out their speed and improving their agility. Nothing does it quite like a game of tag. It’s always this way for a while. I saw it with their parents and with their grandparents even just recently; every year, a new generation learning the ropes and I’ve seen it all.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
Vegan Apple Kuchen with Cinnamon Ice Cream and Cranberry Sauce
For those who don’t yet know, I am a proud graduate of The Culinary Institute of America. I spent just over three years as a CIA student, in which time I earned an Associate Degree in Baking and Pastry Arts followed by a Bachelor’s Degree in Applied Food Studies with a Concentration in Farm to Table American Cuisine.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Feast
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