This is what Valentine’s Day looks like after 18 years of being together. Let me paint for you a motion picture. First of all, there is a wife who wakes up on her side of the bed, because you get to own a side when you’ve been together this long. That wife tries to disengage …
I write about love, because I want to understand love, what it really is. Love is…romance? It is Valentine’s Day soon, hearts turn toward the romantic side of love as we near the day. It is just the way we women are hardwired. We love a good romance. I am, earlier on this Saturday, sitting …
I have a note crammed in my pocket. It is scribbled in black ink, penned with large sprawling letters. It was written in a hurry. That matters not to me. What matters is this: it was written. I grabbed lunch late today. As I opened a plastic grocery bag, inside which was my lunch, I …
Vignette #1: I arrive at school a bit before 9:00 p.m. I am having a bit of trouble finding my keys, but there they are, on the passenger seat. I gather an armload of muffins for tomorrow’s healthy breakfast selections, and I balance them with my free arm, as I slam the door shut with …
Little girls should never have to worry when they fall asleep at night. Mine is sweetly sleeping, her hair a cascade of gold fanning her pillow. Moments like this one are precious. Cherished. Minutes ago, she came padding down the stairs, wearing those fuzzy jammies with the puppies on them that are so cuddly after …
I wake before the alarm sounds to a little body clinging to mine like glue, moulded against my form. I am gripping the side of the bed as if my life depended on it. I feel like I have a giant mud sucker attached to my back. I get my bearings, stretch and make the …
Supper menu: spare-ribs slow roasted in the oven, turnip and potato with brown sugar and butter, cabbage casserole with tomato sauce and carrots. As an after-thought, I throw in the left-over fish sticks and oven fries from lunch, just in case. I am home alone, and the house is so unnaturally quiet. I stand at …
It is lunch time, and I am tidying up around the classroom when a little lady, let’s call her S., walks over to me to report that M., which stands for Monkey, hit her. Punched her, to be exact. M. is now doing what little boys do after they have made a serious mistake: he …
I am home after a busy day of work and running after-school errands, and I find my husband in the kitchen with his earphones plugged into his ears, speaking into his Smart phone in tones you would expect from a senior on Bingo day. This is what he is yelling, “Twilight Zone, play Twilight Zone.” …
Strangest question I was asked , twice, today: “Mom did, Grammie ever swallow pencil?” (And you want to know this, dear, because….????) “No, MaryAnne. Grammie never swallowed a pencil” “I mean the other Grammie, the one that lives far away. Did she ever swallow a pencil?” “No, your great-Grammie never swallowed a pencil either, MaryAnne.” …
They urgently run in the door looking for cousins. No formal greetings made, there are games waiting to be played and stories to share. Some gather in the T.V. room and get sidetracked with a show while others rush outside to the swings. Two wait impatiently for a game of Risk, two go upstairs to …
Irene hit us yesterday morning. For all the hurricane predictions, she was not as wild a woman as we all expected, reduced merely to a tropical storm by the time she reached us. However, she unleashed a bit of fury in her passing by, knocking over trees, throwing debris all across our lawn, tossing flowerpots …