the beauty of an ordinary life
"Home," as Jimmy Carter wrote, in a piece for The Bitter Southerner, "is a complicated idea." I've been sewing in the mornings, sitting in my chair by the window, sipping coffee and stitching in the few quiet moments before other more immediate responsibilities take the stage, which usually isn't very long. Sewing, and this kind … Continue reading Something about sewing.
Think of this as a short prelude, a transition between where we've been (for the past 73 days, anyway, for anyone counting along) and where things are going next. Here’s the scene: It’s fall break, my freshman year of college. My mother has flown from Memphis to meet me in New York, where we are … Continue reading Long haul.
Think of this as an unfinished mosaic: When I was little, before my sister was born, I spent weeks each summer at the beach with my mother, building castles, looking for sand dollars, and chasing tiny crabs in the dark as they darted in and out of holes, trying to escape the beams of our … Continue reading Flight.
(Why yes, this post was — once again — written on a tiny phone screen, this time while lying in a soft, comfy bed at a friend’s childhood home. Expect typos and silly word substitutions. Also, this is a long one, in three parts and using two previously published pieces. Not sure I’m going to … Continue reading Transitions.
FORTY. Huzzah! Let's do it: There's an age by which a woman is supposed to have come into her own, to know a thing or two. Who decides this magic number that marks a woman's arrival? She does, silly. In my observation, though, women don't always seize this inherent power. A friend of mine -- … Continue reading Something about finding one’s voice.
You are going on a trip, and you are taking aspiration. Aspiration and bravery. Aspiration, bravery, and candor.Yes; this is a good first stop: You're going on a trip and you're taking candor. You were two or three, and it was a Saturday, and I was frantically vacuuming and picking up toys, and you were … Continue reading Something for my daughter.
The first rule of knives, in my mother's teaching, was the most important because it has to do with people and relationships. The rule was simple: Knives are not given but sold. If you think a friend or neighbor (or child, partner, or spouse) might enjoy having a particular knife, then tape a penny to … Continue reading No. Knife skills are not bulls*it.
See, what happened was this: Our neighbors moved, and when they cleared out of their house they left stuff on the curb (because that's how we roll around here, or at least that's how it used to be before things got fancy). Among the treasures they left on the curb were an electronic dart board … Continue reading Be the light.
jenny's lark 