Looking Back Home

Yesterday, driving up unmarked forest service trails, branches gnawed thin gray lines in the paint of our pickups. And they revealed the fissures of age in my father. Even crumpled by MS, to me, he had still appeared undaunted—this summer he clambered about using his walker to get a ladder so that he could fix the roof. He drove his

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When I'm Thin, I'll . . .

When I’m thin…. When I’m thin, I’ll wear shorts when its hot. I’ll go dancing. I’ll wear a bathing suit. I’ll be comfortable meeting people who knew me when I was in high school. I’ll wear bright yellow pants. I’ll be a better martial artist. When I’m thin, I’ll … I say it literally or metaphorically—every day. Sometimes several times

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Tree Hunting Day

  Saturday, my husband will load chains and shovels into the truck while I’ll pack chocolate chip cookies, Christmas tapes, and lots of extra clothes. The rugrats “forget” to do their chores and Dad roars but soon everyone is squeezed into a battered pickup truck. And we’re off. We meet at the parking lot at the foot of the mountains

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Fagin's Fear

Luckily English or History majors, like the rest of the world, have children who insist on calling our pets Fluffy and Spot. Otherwise, we would foist witty titles on our animals like Chairman Meow and Lady Mac-breath (“Out, damn’d Spot! Out, I say!”) Before children, I had a handsome Great Dane whom I refrained from calling Hamlet only to succumb

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Cut String

When my oldest two were toddlers, we joined our neighbors in a baby welcoming. We drove through tunnels of trees and brush. For miles. Only a few select people lived out at the end of this road and trees embraced them and any vehicle that came to visit with gracefully arching arms and trailing green leaves. Along with a gathering

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