Juliana knew exactly who she was as early as kindergarten.
“You’re so smart!” her teacher said because she could read her ABC’s not only forwards, but backwards.
By sixth grade Juliana was the “school genius.” After she completed an IQ test, the results were given to her parents in whispered joy by the principal, with Juliana sitting right there. No one ever told her the results, but her parents’ faces shone like the sun. Continue reading
“The writing class dug out my neuroses in 30 minutes,” Susie claimed.
Her therapist nodded, eyebrows raised.
“I mean, I’ve been seeing you for five months and all you say to me is ‘how does that make you feel?’” Susie continued, pushing her bangs away from her eyes. “Yet in the class I attended on a whim, I discovered things I never knew about myself!” Continue reading
Sightseers into Pilgrims, by Evangeline Paterson
I used to think --
loving life so greatly --
that to die would be
like leaving a party
before the end.
Now I know that the party
is really happening
that the light and the music --
escaping in snatches
to make the pulse beat
and the tempo quicken --
come from a long way
And I know too
that when I get there
the music will never
Cereal and blueberries. That’s what I should have for breakfast this morning. But as I stare at the quart of blueberries sitting in my refrigerator’s fruit drawer, I change my mind.
Two months ago my mom died. Yet, it seems like she’s still alive, and like she left years ago. In fact, I wasn’t able to mourn her for the six years she suffered from dementia, but since she’s died, I’ve celebrated her vitality and misdeeds and shenanigans and mostly, her love for her family, in big and small ways. Continue reading
Paula stepped away, holding back a scream when the neighbor who had just moved into the apartment above her entered the shared laundry room, saying softly: “Is there a problem?” (In the Laundry Room, continuing from last week…)
“Oh. Um. Hello! It’s Stefan, isn’t it? Hi. I’m Paula.” Paula nodded her head as if in a business meeting, berating herself silently. He’s creepy!
Stefan ignored her as he glared at the laundry in her hands. “I believe those are my jeans. And Darlene’s nightgown.” Continue reading