Category Archives: FTSF On a day when July was ready for August, I sat and talked with a mother and tried to help hold her unexpected grief. It flowed over the Earth anyway and my own grief sat with us on porch chairs as we remembered Brad (my ex-husband) and wondered. “Why him?” Of course, there’s always a storm, […]  It’s August. “Will you watch me play?” he asks. I don’t want to. In fact, I can think of 1,001 things I’d rather do than watch my not-so-little little boy play Legends of Zelda on his WiiU. I look up, ready to tell him “No.” To explain that I’m working, that watching somebody else play […]  “How old is your kid?” I’d ask. “Eight.” “That must be fun,” I’d smile. “Oh! It IS!” she’d beam. I’d pretend to believe her but secretly felt sorry for the fact that she no longer had a toothless baby or a waddling, gapped-tooth toddler like mine. It was hard to imagine that eight-years-old was as […]  If I had a magic wand, the first thing that comes to mind is that I’d “fix” my son. A dozen others. A billion others. An infinity others. In fact, I’ve said before that if I could have a superpower, that it’d be to have magical healing powers. I’d like to fix all kids who […]  Sometimes, writers think they don’t have anything to say. More often, writers have too much to say, but can’t say what they want to, don’t have the energy to do so, or feel paralyzed by their now, or memories of deep, dark, nameless stories. Writers share the un-sharable. They breathe life into rattling bones of […]  We’d finished supper, wiped the table, and loaded lingering plates into the dishwasher. My brothers and I dressed in our jammies to carry bowls of popcorn to the basement where we waited while Dad loaded the projector with slides. Neighbors knocked, hugged my mom, poured cold beer or soda into fizzing glasses, and came downstairs. […] |
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