After her fifth or sixth miscarriage, my mother, resigned to the reality that a baby might not be in the cards, went with my father to the animal shelter and came home with a puppy. Without much debate they named the small, black-and-white ball of fur Happy, partly because the dog's mouth was shaped in … Continue reading Happy.
So, baby, are we doing this thing, or what? he said, rapping on my car window. It was 5:58 on Friday, September 30, 2005, two minutes ahead of our agreed start time of six o'clock. He was always early; I was always late. It was part of our familiar routine. On this particular day, though, … Continue reading The year of magical running.
If we were to start anew, we might do it all differently, bolstered by knowing. We might be less like first-time lovers or new puppies, fumbling between tentative and exuberant. We might first take stock in ourselves, be realistic about our imprinting. We might bow first, out of respect, thinking less about how each could … Continue reading This old house.
Yes, me too. From the very beginning, until the very end. Always. Because, from the beginning, When I was very small I slept in a tall, iron-framed bed, next to the upstairs front window in our big, drafty house that creaked in the night. When it was time for the lights to be turned out, … Continue reading Truly, madly, deeply.
Here's how I drilled a hole in my thumb: When Bernard walked into our bedroom, I was in the middle of saying: farewell, blue shirt; thank you for bringing out the blue in my eyes. And Bernard said: what the hell are you doing? And I said: I told you already; I'm going to spend … Continue reading The rest of the story.
I don't want to jinx things or tempt fate, but it's looking like I will make it through 2015 and into a new year. Which means it's about the time that I normally compile and share my 50 Happy Things list, the time-limited, year-in-review free-write that I started a couple of years ago to give … Continue reading On lemons, lessons, love.
Here's what I know about time: It's going to keep moving forward, whether or not we move forward with it. Once upon a time, my daughter was small; now she is big - almost as tall as I am and able to say "thank you" on her own, without my prompting, when someone pays her … Continue reading 527,040.
Here's what I know about love: All genuine love is unconditional; there is no other possibility. Ours was not an "I love you" kind of family. It was loving, to be sure, but it was governed with the restraint of good manners, tact and patrician reserve. "I love you" was, in our tribal lexicon, a … Continue reading The unconditionals.
jenny's lark 