Meg Brodeur '24


Portfolio Co-Editor


Love, Your Christmas Baby

It is December 28, 2001. For the past month, Grandpa’s record player has been dedicated Almost exclusively to Nat King Cole’s Christmas album. It has been 28 days of “The Christmas Song,” “Joy to the World,” and “O Holy Night” But today your home rests in an unusual state of quiet. Scraps of wrapping paper […]

Meg Brodeur '24

Aphrodite

The Goddess of Love donned a velvet crimson dress softer than rose petals. She strolled along the city’s cobblestone walkway as the water sent an autumn chill to brush against her skin. Lifting her gaze to the sky, the moon looked back at her, revealing only a sliver of its full, plump figure. She rolled […]

Meg Brodeur '24

Moonlit Painting

Through a curtainless bay window, the moonlight cascaded into our flat and illuminated your face with an ethereal shimmer. You asked me to paint you a picture of my future. So, with a grin teasing my lips, I told you to pose for a portrait. Rolling your eyes in feigned exasperation, you sat back on […]

Meg Brodeur '24

Home: The Best Place to Feel Awful

July, Age 16 The glossy water sways like liquid silk across an iridescent horizon. It’s only 9 a.m. and a temperate breeze flows off the Long Island Sound. Watercolors paint the sky in robin egg blue and white wisps of vapor clouds. It’s the summer before my junior year of high school, and my pulse […]

Meg Brodeur '24

Excerpt from the Diary of an Autumn Oak Tree

I have sunk into a patch of highly manicured terrain and am leisurely suffocating from the anthropogenic air. Dwelling around me is a plethora of frosty elements, embellishing my dull brittle bark with glimmering crystals. My rough skin serves as a protective barrier against the penetration of snow, sleet, and ice. However, my natural body […]

Meg Brodeur '24

The Art of Stargazing

It’s half past midnight when my best friend and I make our way to the beach and settle next to each other in the sand. To me, stargazing is the antithesis of anxiety. I’ve spent hours rewriting a single sentence. As a little kid, making a birthday card was an environmental hazard. I would remake […]

Meg Brodeur '24

The Chasm

Trigger Warning: mentions of suicide An acidic taste stung the sores in my throat. I squinted at the nickel bolt as it retracted itself into the chipped woodwork. I watched as my mother dragged herself over the threshold to join me in the dismal, musky study. She donned a modest, unembellished frock. It was the […]

Meg Brodeur '24