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 […]
Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
Childhood Story #8
Posted in Children, Emotions/Inner World, Fathers, Growing up, Masculinity, Writing, Young Love on February 17, 2014 | Leave a Comment »
Definition of a Good Day: My Father Didn’t Die and I Didn’t Kill my Mother
Posted in Acceptance, Aging, Anger, Daughters, Death/Loss/Grief, Fathers, Fear, Friendship, Meditation, Writing on January 30, 2014 | 2 Comments »
Some days, “goodness” is defined more simply. A break in the weather. Errands completed with relative ease. My son has a good day at school and responds by my 4th nagging request to get off the computer. My husband returns from his 12-hour day energized and fatigued, rather than exhausted and depleted. I manage to […]
A Conversation Between Writers
Posted in Isolation/Belonging, Poetry, Writing on January 23, 2014 | 1 Comment »
Writers are not known for their social skills. Even those who write great dialogue do so from the privacy of their own writing space, with endless re-writes and reading it back out loud to determine when they have finally captured something like “real” conversation. You can write a to-do list, or even a family Christmas […]
She loves me, she loves me not
Posted in Adolescents/Teenagers, Emotions/Inner World, Love, Spirituality, Writing on January 14, 2014 | Leave a Comment »
A squeamish child, I didn’t pull the wings off of flies. Or petals off a daisy. I didn’t much want to know what the insides of anything looked like – animal, vegetable, sea creature, automobile or electronic equipment. I was satisfied with the outer surface of things. I was happy to allow fate to determine […]
Would you like some Cinnamon Crispies with that?
Posted in Adolescents/Teenagers, Writing on December 30, 2013 | Leave a Comment »
When I was a teenager rebelling against a summer job in the family business – it was the era of proving myself, taking a stance of fierce independence, or perhaps it was just the ultimate in my stubborn streak – I took a job at Taco Bell. I learned to withstand skin burns from pinto […]