I was wearing a flowered shirt when my sister told me that our mother was dying. I was definitely wearing something on the bottom half of my body — possibly a denim skirt — but only the shirt is there in my memory, vivid and bold. I’d never worn it before, and had hung it… Continue reading The Flowered Shirt
Category: Grief
That Hat
I was in the grocery store checkout line when a woman caught me eyeing her husband. She seemed curious rather than irritated, but I figured I should explain myself. “That hat,” I told her, nodding at her husband. “My dad always wore a hat like that.” Her husband turned around and smiled. “Like this?” he… Continue reading That Hat
Two Minutes
Mrs. Sabo pulled me aside when I went up to the front of the room to sharpen my pencil. I thought I was in trouble. I always think I’m in trouble. I’m halfway through my forties, and when the teachers send a note home that they want me to come to a conference I think… Continue reading Two Minutes
In Groups of Three
We were three stair-steps growing up, cousins each a year apart, Gina-Carol-Carla. There were a lot of cousins — thirty-two on my mom’s side — but we were special somehow. Close enough in age and without major personality conflicts, I think. Our mothers mostly indulged us; cousins were safe friends. Sometimes we were all together,… Continue reading In Groups of Three
The Unexpected Grace of Pumpkins
My husband Paul and I took a body blow at the end of one September. We’d had a baby boy in adoptive placement in our home for two months, thinking he would be ours forever, and then one day we knew he wouldn’t. We surrendered him back to the arms of the young woman who… Continue reading The Unexpected Grace of Pumpkins