February 2014

A birth

February 21, 2014

When I was around 12, my mother took my sister and me to visit my great-aunt Jessie. I remember her as a stereotype of an old lady spinster: tall, thin and stooped, wearing a gray, faded, floral cotton summer dress and a gray cotton cardigan. Her gray hair was pulled back into a bun. She wore […]

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In the bottom drawer

February 19, 2014

She is afraid to open the bottom drawer. “It’s a Pandora’s Box in there,” she says to herself and she is correct. It is the drawer where she throws everything she wants to avoid: parking tickets, letters from her demented mother accusing her of crimes she has never committed, contentious notes from the noisy neighbors who object […]

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February 6, 2014

“Measure twice, cut once,” my father used to say with his characteristic affability. My father was full of all sorts of aphorisms. It was one of the qualities I loved about him. When I was a little girl, he would tousle my hair and call me “feller-me-dad,” as if I was a boy. I’m sure […]

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Commercial Street

February 5, 2014

In that December on Commercial Street The banging of the wind grew still one night In the morning, winter cast a gray pall And made me think of lost cities undersea. Shades of light with softly sharpened edges Gave wisdom to the wind-whipped, salt-washed scene Who then evolved the somber symphonies Sonorous stones calming the […]

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