On the day of my little grandson Milo’s birth, the first child of my daughter Rachael and my son-in-law Andrew, I wrote the email below to some dear writing friends of mine. I am posting it here for a few reasons: 1) to have a record of what happened, 2) to remind myself and anyone…
Tag: family
The Ides of March and a Brother Remembered
I have posted this story about my brother John before, but tomorrow is his birthday, and this story speaks so vividly to me of my deep love for him. For that reason, I am sharing it again since this time of year, John is very much on my mind. Could That Be My Brother? I…
For a Belated International Women’s Day: In Praise of Women
I have had the good fortune to know a myriad of strong women in my life, starting with my grandmother and mother, who were forces in their own right, to my mother’s partner, Dorothy; my sister, Leslie; my three powerful and opinionated daughters, Sarah, Liz, and Rachael; my oldest grandchild, Luna, who is the walking…
Happy Birthday, Andrew!
Today is my son-in-law Andrew’s birthday, and while he and Rachael may be quietly celebrating, I suspect they both think the best present ever would be the safe and easy birth of their little son Milo, who is due at any time. I doubt Milo will share his daddy’s birthday, however. That would require a…
Flash Fiction: Somebody’s Girlfriend
I was sixteen when it happened. I didn’t mean to do it, but the police didn’t believe that. Actually, nobody believed me, since I had been bragging earlier that week that if Josh bothered me again, I was going to smack him upside the head. I was talking to a bunch of girls, swaggering around…
My Dad: Frozen in My Mind at Sixty-Eight
Tomorrow is my dad’s birthday. He would be astonishingly old now—124—since he was born in 1903 and was fifty when I was born. It’s funny how time works. I have him frozen just as he was when he died in 1972, when I was nineteen years old. He was just a few weeks away from…
The Night I Forgot How to Speak
When I was growing up, there was a Sweetheart Banquet at the 7th and Main Baptist Church every Valentine’s Day. I never had the occasion to attend since I was an Episcopalian, but it was considered quite an event in our little town. When I was in 8th grade, I was invited to go with…
The Geography of Memory
Whenever I drive back to Texas, the minute I hit the border from New Mexico, a calm settles over me. Not that West Texas is my home, but still, I can see the big open sky and the flat plains, and I hear that West Texas closed-mouth drawl when I stop for gas. These are…
The Quiet Language of Touch
I have a strong memory of spending a lot of time when I was a little girl snuggled up in bed next to my mother, her skin warm and her smell comforting. In that memory, my mother is always reading, and her arm is around me so that I am nestled next to her. I…
All Abroad: The Train’s A’Coming
The anniversary of my mother’s death is tomorrow. She’s been gone 26 years. I wrote this piece a while back, but I think it expresses some of my thoughts on my mother’s passing. I loved her very much and miss her every day. A train is a means of conveyance that moves on a track…
20 Minutes a Day 