Rebecca Larivee

Rebecca Grace Larivee grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. She previously worked as an archaeologist in England, Washington, and California, as well the American Southwest. Rebecca currently runs a small counseling practice in New Mexico's Four Corner's region. Her works of nonfiction and CNF have been published in "Cause and Function," magazine, "AZ: The Journal of Weird Anthropology, and "Empty Mirror" press. Recently awarded a Connie Gotsch Arts Foundation Grant, Rebecca lives on a farm in Northwest New Mexico with her husband, Normand, and their lively menagerie of "critters."

Black, Yellow, Blue

Black. Yellow. Blue. The painting in the hall showed a man, a woman, and a big yellow dog Ð falling from the Earth into the atmosphere. The dog looked so helpless as he fell with his legs spread out, away from green earth and blue oceans toward the blackened sky. The thick strokes of paint gave the images an added dimension Ð as if the paint was also falling away from the wooden frame. Even then, at the tender age of nine, I was most concerned about the dog.

Creative Nonfiction

Issue 34, February 2020

Rebecca Larivee

Rebecca Grace Larivee grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. She previously worked as an archaeologist in England, Washington, and California, as well the American Southwest. Rebecca currently runs a small counseling practice in New Mexico's Four Corner's region. Her works of nonfiction and CNF have been published in "Cause and Function," magazine, "AZ: The Journal of Weird Anthropology, and "Empty Mirror" press. Recently awarded a Connie Gotsch Arts Foundation Grant, Rebecca lives on a farm in Northwest New Mexico with her husband, Normand, and their lively menagerie of "critters."

Black, Yellow, Blue

Black. Yellow. Blue. The painting in the hall showed a man, a woman, and a big yellow dog Ð falling from the Earth into the atmosphere. The dog looked so helpless as he fell with his legs spread out, away from green earth and blue oceans toward the blackened sky. The thick strokes of paint gave the images an added dimension Ð as if the paint was also falling away from the wooden frame. Even then, at the tender age of nine, I was most concerned about the dog.

Creative Nonfiction

Issue 34, February 2020

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