Sons | Sons
May.07.2009
As I write the trees perform a dance for me right in front of the window. They bend themselves into enviable positions, their limbs agile and supple. Graceful. I wish I could bend like they do, stretch myself out and tilt my body to the ground. I cannot, yet I watch them transfixed from my stance...
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Mar.13.2009
Your dad never told you that girls can outwit, outsmart and outplay you. He told that to you for a good reason. He wanted you to learn these lessons on your own just as he did, because his father never told him that girls can manipulate like nobody's business.
Men more than women seem to be taken...
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Jan.27.2009
Sleeping Beauties
As I sat at the sewing machine the other day, making curtains for my daughter, it brought my mind back to the day when I was in my late teens. Forty years ago, and the first time I ever followed a pattern in sewing, by making doll clothes for my youngest...
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Dec.13.2008
Cleaning is hard work. Emotionally more so than physically. I can't seem to do it all at once, but only in bits and pieces. Today it was a shelf in the 'playroom' that had always been the domain of my sons. I hadn't tackled the tangled mess of hats and flashlights, binoculars and folding saws,...
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Nov.28.2008
When my first agent read my first novel, she called me up and said, "You don't like conflict, do you?"
Excuse me, I thought. I pretty much AM conflict. I am filled with conflict. I am a 24/7 conflict kind of gal, roiling in her own issues, traumatized by life events, desperate to right...
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Sep.09.2008
My father died when I was fifteen and among many other more important things, he missed out on the great tradition of hating any of his daughter’s dates. Or scaring them. He never got to stand up from a table, take of his glasses, his jacket and stride over to the hapless and now shaking...
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Jul.23.2008
"Wait, go back!" I say perhaps a little too urgently as The Kid flips through the van radio, pushing every button over and over again.
"That?"
"No, back more."
"That?" he asks, as something by Offspring rattles the speakers.
"No, more, go back more...
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Jun.17.2008
I heard myself saying it to my son as I let myself out of the house: "I shall return." In an arch, mock-stentorian voice. He didn't react. He never does, and I'll bet I've said it a thousand times. I didn't intend to say it, but I know where it came from: My dad used to say it to me when...
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