“What do you think it is?” my brother Jack asks. He’s in the middle of a 4-mile run even though he’s 68, his knees ache, and he biked 20 miles the day before with friends a decade younger.
I shrug, then take his question seriously. After all, I drove seven hours to visit my brother and his wife, and after perfunctory hellos, Jack takes off for a run and I begin a three-mile walk. Jack and I bump into each other a mile from his home; he pants while he asks the question. Continue reading
It all started with a gift.
Last year when we visited our son in CA, he was horrified that his dad, my guy, still refused to use a suitcase with wheels.
“Real men carry their bags,” my guy declared. Continue reading
I never go to a mall during the holidays. I rarely go any other time either, but the month of December is decidedly off limits.
Except for today. It’s a few days after Christmas and I still haven’t bought “the” sweatshirt that my 15-year-old grandson wants.
It’s not a special sweatshirt. Continue reading
I moved in with a man I’d known for 11 months with my two children, ages 2 and 4.
He was a confirmed bachelor.
I was a newly divorced, single mom vowing to never live with a man again. Continue reading
My high school photo.
My voice has lowered over time. Not purposely. Age has made it softer and, if I talk for too long, hoarser.
I used to be a good public speaker; in high school and college when I had to perform for pageants and plays, I used my voice as my talent, reciting well-known poems and stories with verve and veracity. Continue reading
roughwighting 