A dozen empty glasses stand on the countertop filmed over with last night’s supper. I should have washed them straightaway, but I was heavy in the legs and grimy with day labor. The children were noisy last night. They clashed like wood spoons on sheet metal. I sat futile as a dry cow with my…
There are two razors charging on the counter, wires crossed one over another. It seems strange to me that a man grown from a seed inside my body leans over this sink now. He bends down into the mirror and lifts his chin to catch the spares. Here my daughter stands and turns in the…
Soon the rattle and flurry of the day will settle into a cool black hush. May this room be a respite waiting. May the weary who land here find softness opening up to them, thrown wide like two plump, white arms. May these clean sheets stretched sweet as a summer field tucked neat and tight…
Every time I stood beside her, I wanted to hide myself. She was the kind of beautiful that emphasized my every flaw. That’s what made me awkward around her. When I sat on her couch, I wanted to fold in my big ugly feet and my hands with their nails ripped off at the beds….
Do not be ashamed of your limitations. Don’t be grieved because you have weaknesses and gaps. Do not worry that you are very, very bad at some very good things. Here is why. Color theory. Let us take yellow, for instance. Yellow functions best in a piece of artwork when yellow is yellow with all…
Here is a zany –and thank you very much, I will say zany— poem by poet and poetry writer, Rebecca Reynolds. Enjoy the silliness! Also, here’s a fun thing, parents/adult humans: Invite your children to draw an illustration from the poem and post it to our Facebook page and your child may win a prize….
Shame seems to settle differently in different personalities. There are tender folks who agonize over the slightest fumble. Others seem able to walk away from an acute mistake feeling very little remorse at all. I process shame like a thinky type. For years, I rehash my mistake over and over, fleshing out the nuances. I…
I was jumping on the couch with scissors. The reason I remember is because I didn’t do things like that. I was the oldest kid, the responsible one. Abundance had made me sturdy, with thick, auburn hair and wit enough. I did chores, made A+’s on school papers, and watched the “little kids.” I was…
There was a bad storm rolling, so we piled in the basement to wait it out. As far as I can remember, I was five, which means it was probably the spring of 1977. Your grandparents have always been fond of simple, self-driven entertainment. They respected me enough to believe I could find something worthwhile…
It’s been five days since that terrible thing happened in America. You and I have talked about it some, though I never know how thoroughly to explain a tragedy. As a parent, it is difficult to know when to act as your shield and when to give you glimpses into the world you must one…
She was a little too brazen for my liking. “If you’re going to go the special-needs route, you will need a sense of humor,” she said. “This process is awkward, and people say stupid things. Laughter is one of the best ways to fight that.” “We’re funny people!” I said, trying to thinking of something…
This morning we were sick together. I heard you at five stepping down the last four wooden steps in the dark, barefoot and concerned, dragging your striped blanket. Something wasn’t right. You knew it. You crawled in bed beside me, buried the fevered weight of your forehead into the white softs of my inner arms,…
