"I know you said you don't want any of this, but I think you'll actually want one thing," he said, dropping some folded papers on the kitchen table. It was a letter, five pages in long-hand, from my mother to my father, a few months before they married. When we had gathered the belongings from my mother's garage years ago, the letter must have slipped from a box into an adjacent pile.
It is autumn, occasional chill begging a blanket's comfort, occasional warmth reviving sandal straps. These are unpredictable days, suspended somewhere between bronze and silver. Foggy morning mist gives way, perhaps, to unexpected sun. But, then again, maybe not. Clarity may lurk just out of reach. It is hard to feel settled in this season, the … Continue reading A woman in season.
So here's something you might have noticed: the characters in those delicious coming-of-age stories, the one that are always all the rage? They're never a day past 25 (if that). The over-30-and-40-something people? They've already come of age. They're full-grown, and their angst-of-now stories are called mid-life crises. Our stories, I mean, not theirs. Mine, … Continue reading Riding through the crazies.