Happiness. It's relative.
I had a sister once. She didn’t die. She just left and never came back. The time she left before this last final time which has lasted twenty-eight years, she left for just six months. We differed about something, one of us made a… Continue Reading “Witness to a Broken Heart”
I looked at my 10-year old granddaughter standing in front of her locker at the JCC, not a stitch on, completely comfortable, at ease, unaware, uncaring, unconscious of the thought of being self-conscious. All those many years of taking her swimming every Sunday, our… Continue Reading “In the Locker Room”
I am glad for so many things. I am glad that….. Movies I loved the first time are now classics like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest; the characters like friends from my youth, McMurphy is who we all secretly are, crazy nuts but… Continue Reading “The Second Game of the 1963 World Series”
When my father died, I gave his computer to Goodwill after keeping it in an honored place on the floor of my office where I would look at it and think about whether giving it to him had made anything easier about the year… Continue Reading “Erased”
A tiny thing can last for years. The memory of it can be as fresh as the first second, the leaves on the bush as green, the soil underneath as loamy and dark and the tiny elves’ footprints as distinct. My brother would motion… Continue Reading “Tiny Things Last”
She had dozens of New Years before she knew the end was near. Eighty six of them. The young woman in this picture, with one hand in her pocket and the other on the arm of her husband, is my grandmother. She’s not looking… Continue Reading “When She Had Endless New Years”
A good Christmas shows the sublime and the ridiculous Offers the possibility of too much wine Hides puzzles and gives answers expected for years Replaces old worries with new Finds bottom lines below the ones firm in our minds Reminds that not caring is… Continue Reading “Christmas Night”
Not much. We go to this same funky garden store every year where a guy with major dreads stuffed under a Rasta hat sells us our Christmas tree, a wreath and a couple of poinsettias. This year there were six trees standing outside when… Continue Reading “Nu?”
My worst quality is thinking I should fix people who haven’t asked for repair. When my children were children, my fixing fixation was in full gear. They had issues, to be sure, but fewer than I detected. The trap of making one’s children into… Continue Reading “Out for Repairs”
It took me years to decide to take my dad’s 1938 Underwood typewriter to be cleaned and reconditioned. It has always felt to me like my mother’s locket, the one with the picture of my dad before they were married. Her initial “V” on… Continue Reading “Too Valuable to Wear”
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