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Archive for the ‘Growing up’ Category

Early on, motherhood is very crowded, very little room or time or space just for her. There is always someone right there; possibly, multiple someones.  

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Here’s what driving carpool really means: the floors of your car fill up with food remains, the seams of your seats darken with embedded crumbs, the windows smudge over with the residue of sticky/sweaty foreheads, noses, lips and fingers, the air sours with the lingering odor of left-behind articles of clothing peeled off while wet, half-sucked […]

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In a well-worn story of my youth, the main character is, of course, me. But as I retold the story, it could be my Dad. Or my Mom. Or my stuffed tiger, who, at the age I was at the time this story was not yet a story, but a series of events that hadn’t […]

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We hand things down, we humans. Genes, mannerisms, susceptibility to illness and disease, perhaps a family heirloom, perhaps a bit of an estate, perhaps the clutter of accumulated objects. Lessons. Heritage can be visible or hidden; gifts intentional or not; narratives oft-told or silent. It doesn’t matter what we believe we do; we hand just […]

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The trio at the table next to me at the pub were of indeterminate but comparable youth. At least they seemed so to me. Until one woman recounted a litany of physical complaints and ailments that the doctor kept telling her were stress-related. She just needed to relax. Go home for Thanksgiving, she was told. […]

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