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.
Monday: One of the students in my memoir class writes about the death of her mother. My student was sixty-one when her mother passed away. Her mother had lived to the enviable age of ninety-three. A death not unexpected. And yet, in my student's piece, she writes about the sudden feeling of aloneness. "I no … Continue reading Breath.
Kids are people, too.
An intern appears in the doorway of what has become my makeshift office during these weeks of theatre camp. Looking frazzled, he holds up a hand, indicating that someone---presumably a student---should wait in the hall, before he crosses to the table I've claimed as my desk. "Susie is here to see you," he says in … Continue reading Kids are people, too.
Five Minute Mornings
I belong to a little writing group on facebook called Five Minute Mornings. My response to this morning's prompt is indicative of the reason for my internet absence, i.e., I have not gone into hiding nor declared myself a hermit. I just have a new baby. The prompt: You'll laugh, you'll cry. When he is … Continue reading Five Minute Mornings
Dear Friends, Yesterday, I wrote a very loud, angry, and defensive post about a possible hair choice for my daughter and myself. In hindsight, that might have been a bad idea. What I wrote still holds true as an emotional response, but it is not okay to attack friends in cyberspace (or in real life, … Continue reading Regret
My facebook status this morning: "I'm thinking maybe Desi and I should just dread our hair for the summer." And now I think I've done it again. I've put something out on the internet that I'm not sure I'm up to defend. Or am I? The reactions I got to said facebook status were interesting. … Continue reading Hair
My whole body gets jittery when I'm angry. My hands tremble, my stomach quakes, my legs twitch. And usually such tremors end in a lengthy explosion, a twenty-minute verbal mushroom cloud with my voice as the source of the sonic boom. I am a yeller. A screamer even. When I'm pissed, you can hear it … Continue reading Jittery
Mile Marker 30
I turned 30 a few weeks ago, on Christmas Eve. I didn't think it would be a big deal. No big party. Not even just a dinner out with my husband or a few drinks with my girls. (Though drinks with my girls is currently difficult because most of my girls live in other cities. … Continue reading Mile Marker 30
I don't miss the television any more. We used to have cable, back when we lived in England. Before we left for the UK, my mother threw a fit, pointing out every possible negative she could manage. She does that. Always. "My friend lived in England, when her husband was stationed there. You'll start to … Continue reading Sans TV
Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster…
As if to confirm that I should, in fact, be thinking about death right now, a girl with whom I went to high school has passed away suddenly. Today. Just over a week ago, out of the blue, she started suffering seizures that seemed to be linked to a previously undetected heart arrhythmia. Her friends, … Continue reading Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster…