I was going to write a blog about It. Then I read a piece by Atwood, and I didn’t have anything else to say. She said it all, more eloquent than anything I could craft. Fears about It lurk in my dreams and during my awakening. Heightened as I think about our children. Earth as we have known … Continue reading Let’s talk about It
joy and grief
Places of thanks
Smells and images: exhilarating, filling, haunting. Before, After and Now. Snippets of memories. What happened? What didn’t? Who is to say? Then. Buckets of sand, gulls cawing, shrieking wind and penetrating rain. Feet sink deep into cold, wet sand. Salty tide pools warmed by fading sun. Sand pushes through cracks between my toes, into my nails. I extract … Continue reading Places of thanks
Even when you call me Mother
It was the moment she referred to me as her mother. Although I knew she had suffered a tough week, I recognized a subtle, uncomfortable invitation into a new place. A different stage of life, for me – her daughter - and for her. I was also confused: I thought I had already stepped well … Continue reading Even when you call me Mother
Family, friends, mountains…and moments
My mind drifts between two storylines - that of My Music Man, as I perch between excitement as I plan my book launch and worry regarding whether books will be released in time - and my still unfolding novel, Beyond the Ripples. As I backpacked earlier this week for the first time since breaking my … Continue reading Family, friends, mountains…and moments
Those things left behind
When Dad died and I helped clean out his apartment, I found a stash of Irish Spring soap. I didn't inherit Dad's need to stock up on things: I gave most away, but I took one, and now, over two years later, it still sits at my bathroom sink. Every day or so I smell … Continue reading Those things left behind