Before For months, while lying in bed, examining my underwear for blood, and staring at sonographers’ screens, I’ve wondered: when something seismic happens, will I recognize it? On message…
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Image Credit: paper.prankster Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.” –Psalms 133 When my 11-year-old daughter informed me that she wanted…
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Creative Nonfiction / EssayFeaturedThe Molting: How the Mother of an Addicted Teen Made Way for New Growth
Image Credit: Casey Taylor By freshman year of high school my eldest son had broken more laws, bones, and hearts than any other child in our provincial town. With…
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October 24, 2019 Dear Marissa, You know that lonely feeling, the one where your heart hurts so bad it feels like it ruptured? Like in those National Geographic photos…
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Freedom. A Blue Jay flew in circles above the birdbath we had in our backyard the day my mother left. She left one cage only to walk into another. She…
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My seven-year-old lies on the fuzzy rug in her shared bedroom; the ball of her right foot is on top of her left and her arms stretch out in a…
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They say if you want love, to make it. Just before you took your place, I imagined you into my life and paved a chamber in my gut for you.…
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When my daughter was two days into her seventh year, my right heel slipped on black ice and my whole body was tossed into the cold January air, my head…
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My turn, my turn, my turn! My kids shriek and race around the house, bickering over who gets to use the something next. It doesn’t really matter what it is.…
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Paintings by Miriam Feldman According to Wikipedia, a jumper (person), in police and media parlance, is a person who plans to fall or jump from a potentially deadly height, sometimes…
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“You’re a mother now,” the anesthesiologist with the long blonde hair says as I’m wheeled to recovery. Mother. I am a Mother now? Five days before I am a mother,…
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Image: Author’s eldest child, Beatrice, three weeks before she died at 35 weeks in utero James Dean died in his Porche Spyder 500, after a collision at the intersection of…
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The fog is thicker as we drop in elevation. I sit down on the snow to fix her goggles; I admire her: rosy lips, white-blond hair coming out from under…
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Jean Rhys, 1975 by Bill Brandt When I was younger and more carefree, I really admired the flâneurs of Paris. Baudelaire, Baldwin, Sontag, Rilke. What I loved about these…
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