The Queen of Heaven

‘Look, mom, I see a red bird!’ I tell her it’s a cardinal, but she only cares about the paint it leaves in her memory. It is one masterful stroke by an artist whose hands are more important than their name. ‘I heard Meowth!’ Her brother’s cat scowls from the street, a feral refusal for … Continue reading The Queen of Heaven

April showers bring May powers

It's no secret that Mother's Day can be stressful for many people. For me, it was watching my mother-in-law, a woman who had a hand in raising me in my teen years and stayed by my side despite our very strange, yet functional-to-mental-illness relationship, deteriorate for nearly three years with ALS and then have two … Continue reading April showers bring May powers

To my mother, the enigma

What happened the day you named me? Were my cheeks olive and tired from resisting the light, chapped from an extra week spent in a womb tired of carrying babies for two years in a row? Were you defeated in your name choice, relinquishing your secret favorite in lieu of the name he picked? Or … Continue reading To my mother, the enigma

For He Who Lives More Lives Than One…

Age ten was the first time I thought about being forty—the age Oscar Wilde was when he was imprisoned and wrote The Ballad of Reading Gaol. I assumed I would similarly have a long literary career by that time—though without the ball and chain. As age twenty came, then more and more children, that daydream … Continue reading For He Who Lives More Lives Than One…

Painting Time

We are going strong in our writing group, so I thought I'd share my story from the prompt we did today, which was writing a flash story from a painting in our home. I chose this one, a gift from my Mother-in-Law: Enjoy! Tallulah Everyone hated the Eiffel Tower except her. She thought it was … Continue reading Painting Time

Many Sparrows

I am 8, I am reading the dictionary, I have been through the American Medical Association book four times front-to-back. I read Wilde and Poe and understand light refraction. I dissect dead turtles and frogs. I measure the doppler effect of large farm trucks on the endless expanse of 1980s country roads. I write my … Continue reading Many Sparrows

The Wild Mind

“Art itself has become an extraordinary thing - the activity of peculiar people - people who become more and more peculiar as their activity becomes more and more extraordinary.”Eric Gill, Art and a Changing Civilisation, (“The Creative Process”) Creativity as a discussion is as subjective and varied as created material. Whether contemplating art, writing, music, architecture, … Continue reading The Wild Mind

Ask Us About Our Basements

I was sitting here in my melancholy--some reasons valid, others, not so much--and I asked myself what potentially marketable skills do I have that, when combined with anxiety and introversion, would contribute to our single-income large family.  I have been substitute teaching, but that is sparse and hardly lucrative. I hate and/or am terrible at … Continue reading Ask Us About Our Basements