Mother, may I laugh with you, even as you breathe
out your last memory on the Covid floor?
Oh the days we laughed, once I was a child no more. Continue reading
memoir
No Visitors Allowed
My mom doesn’t understand that a virus is attacking the world.
She doesn’t know that those most at risk are the elderly and that at 96, she’s a non-moving target.
She doesn’t realize that the virus takes the most vulnerable, and those who live in a “memory care” facility are the most vulnerable. Continue reading
The Dollar Bill
I hate department stores. I don’t use the word “hate” lightly. The empty vastness of material nothingness; the bright lights spotlighting our greed; the vapid noise of elevator music and high-pitched meaningless laughter.
Thus, when my daughter suggests I go with her and my 11-year-old granddaughter for a girls’ day of shopping, I respond immediately:
“Of course. I’d love to.”
How Was Your Vacation, Erma?
Remember those first days of school, when the teacher asked you to write about your summer vacation? Did you focus on the days at the pool? The hours riding your bike aimlessly? Maybe your family drove for hours and hours to camp in mosquito-filled woods where the frog hums kept you up every night.
As I thought about my week vacation at the shore, Erma Bombeck came to mind. She found humor in the everyday calamities of life. Here’s a short synopsis of “what I did on my summer vacation.” Continue reading
The Mother’s Secret
Once upon a time, a new being was pulled out of my belly, literally, and after a weighing and a cleaning, she was placed in my arms. I was awake and could feel nothing below my breasts. But my arms tingled with the weight of her, and my eyes watered with her beauty. Continue reading
roughwighting 