Un-resolution.

A flier for discounted gym memberships arrives with my mail, and a coupon for new storage bins arrives in my inbox, reminders that I am inadequate, that there are so many things that I need to fix. My post-baby body, my less-than-vegan-sometimes-french-fry-laden diet, my closet cluttered with art supplies and un-filed paperwork, my impulse to … Continue reading Un-resolution.

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Fathers.

I remember a dad handing me flowers after a school play, driving me to a speech tournament at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, cheering from the sidelines, and crying at both my graduation and my shotgun wedding. My Alzheimer's-plagued dad remembers that he's supposed to remember me, but he doesn't know my name. … Continue reading Fathers.

How do you part with books?

I'm behind on a couple of work projects, but a photo of my home is the first Google hit for "squalor." I can't think when the house is a wreck. The piles and pandemonium seep into my brain and scatter my thoughts in every which direction. I don't need it to be perfect; I just … Continue reading How do you part with books?