I wish I could be a good writer, but being a mother makes that difficult. I wish that I could sit down every day at the same time and pump out a thousand words...
The hot desert wind picks up, blowing gusts of pollen through the motel window. I imagine a layer of Easter-egg-yellow dust on my naked back. The comforter is ...
The telephone rings at 2AM on a cold January night, a few days into the new century. Andrea’s mother has died: suddenly in her sleep, on another continent, 6,0...
Because my dad and I were not the type to take vacations, I have never been to the ocean. But it’s always been so familiar in my dreams, as though I was one of...
We weren’t supposed to say anything about Aunt Linda’s birds. Our parents would take us to her house every three months or so, for some holiday-related obligati...
I had decided not to post #metoo on my wall. Anyone who loves me knows that I’m a rape victim. In fact, people who don’t love me know—social workers, teachers, ...
My children lie to me. Dominic & Finn, 8 and 5, try to sell me on all kinds of bullshit about their capabilities. Currently, they are peddling the farce tha...
My daughter was born blue. No oxygen. Her cord was pinched in the squeeze before birth just long enough to change her color. She came out and the nurse whisked ...
There were deer eyes everywhere. Staring out from the brush at the edge of the trees on the other side of the guardrail like white Christmas bulbs glinting in t...
I remember thinking it would be funny to disappear from the trail when my parents least expected. We walked in a line beneath the pines with Mom in front and me...
