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As Bob Dylan sang, “the times, they are a-changing,” and as I begin my 76th year, there’s no where so changeable as in my getting around. When I was a kid (six through 13), my grandma had a “trick knee,” and would hobble around the house groaning about her knee whenever anyone was there to… Continue reading That Unspeakable Destination of Life

Mother had a blue plaid dress that was a size 12, and my dieting had me about two sizes above that until I hurt my back. The chiropractor couldn’t help me with weeks of exercises. Pain meds left me too groggy to take care of my toddler. So my doc tried tape (from my panties… Continue reading The Coveted Blue Plaid Dress

I think of my days as a bride. Is the word taken from bridle or vice versa? Asides aside, the first one didn’t make it to the altar––just a week before at eighteen I couldn’t go through with it, then two years later and pregnant, it was time again. I wore red flowers on my… Continue reading A Little Bit on Weddings

The kitten arrives and is kept in the bedroom––in fear of our two adult males, Jake and Simon––but later we laugh at our fears as Missy the kitten chases them ll over the house. Missy is a combination of fathers: brown and orange tabbies resulting in a calico tabby. Her colors divide on her nose, whisker follicles black on one… Continue reading Meet Missy

I looked down at his perfectly straight toes,this boy wearing sandals. I identifiedwith him subconsciously, then lookeddown at mine, bared in a pair of thongs,and almost cried at the bulges and hammersthat overnight seem to have latched onto my feet. It used to be the toes on the left that had the crooked one, but those on… Continue reading When Did My Feet Turn into My Mother’s?

Eric has requested egg salad, again! It seems to me we had it just last week, but it’s healthy and something we both like. Fresh eggs don’t work as well because they are hard to peel––I’ll have to soak their cracked shells in cold water before I begin. Such a mess if the shell sticks… Continue reading Making Egg Salad One Afternoon

I’ve been writing this since I was six, when I first realized that you would put on your coat and leave me forever. No matter how many times you’d tell me you’d be back at lunchtime, I didn’t believe you. I’d cry until, my breath ragged, the sobs would stop and I’d watch Grandmother draw… Continue reading Letter to Mother (after Richard Blanco)

My memories of my father are quickened by two scents: Old Spice shaving lotion and booze. I think it was because he was always neat and shaven when he picked up mother and when they drove home, mother always managed  to pick up the scent of whatever daddy was drinking that night. She never drank herself,… Continue reading When I look at these white blossoms, I still smell Old Spice.

Every morning, eleven little pills some are capsules, some caplets, regular tabs and gelcaps. All different colors and sizes. All to take my body to health instead of wherever it is now. Then this is repeated at bedtime. Some are to be swallowed with milk some after eating breakfast or lunch some on an empty… Continue reading Pills for Almost Everything