Start at an early age.
As you walk into Sunday School,
pray for Mrs. Williams to bring chocolate chip cookies
and make sure to give God a back- up plan.
Pray for brownies too.
Hope is growing.
So are you.
Start at an early age.
Last night while a storm lashed the house, my daughter and I sat up in bed listening to the tree scrape the window and the wind rushing through the street and the sky. She asked me again why her father and I split up two years ago. She said she deserves to know more and that she’s old enough to understand better now. She is nine. I watched her face gazing out at the storm, and one corner of my mind imagined, with the usual mild hysteria, the tree outside suddenly smashing the glass in front of her. The rest of my mind worked on how to explain adult relationships to this sensitive, perceptive kid.Read More
There is a stop sign near our house that many people feel does not apply to them. So I am often paying special attention to those assholes who sail through that intersection. Monday through Friday, there is often a lot of traffic and the left turn lanes are full. As I was driving my kids to school this morning, a man in a large pick-up truck decided that he was more important than anyone else and that other people's safety was of no concern of his.Read More
I'm sure by now everyone's heard the catchy ukulele song "A bad time for men" spreading like wildfire all over facebook. It wasn't Kavanaugh that really got me thinking hard about sexual assault- it was that song. Every single thing she mentioned- being unable to wear headphones while jogging. Not using public transportation at night. Not wearing that one mini skirt. Not renting a first floor apartment. Everything she listed, I have avoided (or done very rarely) my entire life because of one thing: MEN.Read More
Learn and learn to love
how the lonely hands discern
themselves and looks for completeness
which is carved out of us discordant beings
everything has a purpose
even the rotting leaf becomes sustenance
for tiny wiggling earthworm
The longer I live the less I believe in an afterlife. Though the concept of reincarnation tempts me now and again. The idea of a spiritual energy collective appeals to me. So upon death we would each make a spiritual energy deposit into this collective. Kind of like a cooperative bank set up for union members and such like.Read More
There will be no headstone,
where will you go to grieve at sunset?
I want to be there to read your thoughts,
they say we remember things differently.
Will you forget in an ungodly sequence,
hear me speak in another’s voice?
Will remaining be so arbitrary?
So a funny thing happened this year. I retired. Without a lot of planning, I took the step. Closed a chapter. A big one. And the day I did, little nubs of life sprouted like tiny winglets. Time passed. A little more time. Settling into it, re-learning how to relax. My mother died. A little more time passed. The winglets grew. It’s funny how love for a mother mixed into caring for them, after they are gone, releases you.Read More
Sometimes I buy lottery tickets. I know it’s dumb but I do it anyway. My ex-husband calls it the “Losery.” No, that’s not why we got divorced. Back when we were married, I bought lottery tickets far more frequently—weekly, sometimes even twice a week. I can quantify just how many lottery tickets I bought because I saved them all. I hoarded these tickets because, in part, I was afraid that one of them was actually a winner—that I had somehow misread the ticket.Read More
When my parents were separating, there was a brief moment when they discussed what do with my baby-sized hand-and-foot clay imprints which hung on the wall of our family room. "...A hand for you and a foot for me? Or should they stay together as one unit?..." The divorce followed swiftly thereafter. I was just a child in the 4th grade.Read More