Monthly Archives: September 2011

Hopscotch

It’s crisp and bright and jackets have been tossed on benches. A monitor stands between the goal post and the large play set. Some little guys form a firing squad or a baseball team on the diamond, and I slow my pace so the kid … Read more

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4 chickens

I think there are more, actually. The birds and cats and the one happy dog seem to be everywhere. The beautiful chicken with feathers on her feet is keeping close to us because the others bully her. The terrible price of beauty. “She won’t lay,” … Read more

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Support the child

This week, my ex-husband had me served with a proposal to limit my time with G from 50/50 to two weekends a month and four hours on Wednesdays. I haven’t done the math, but I suspect that’s something like going from half-time to 20% time. … Read more

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And what do you know?

“About suffering they were never wrong, the old masters;” I love this Auden poem. I love it with the various stages of my heart. I loved it when I read it first in college, and later, and each time after that. I loved it as … Read more

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Control

Mary is going to be a grandmother some time this month. I suppose that’s true for me as well. Though it doesn’t feel true. My boss told me this morning about moving his youngest daughter into her first apartment. The older sister and the mother … Read more

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Autumn

She used to have this wispy blouse with wrapped candy on it. The blouse was black, but the tiny wrappers were shiny gold. Those wrappers were as much as her wardrobe ever deviated from black. The first time I did our laundry, the darks were … Read more

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Unlabeled

Researchers did a ten-year longitudinal study of female bisexuality at the University of Utah, and one of the most interesting things they discovered is that women tend to date men if they are most often around men, or women if they are most often around … Read more

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Chores

My first chore, after cleaning my room, which doesn’t really count as I was the only beneficiary, was mowing the lawn. We had a push-mower. And the first time I mowed, I took precisely an hour and a half, with three breaks for beverages, and … Read more

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Secret unraveling

I hate abusive stories from my childhood. They’re humiliating. I feel humiliated by them. I did at the time, and I do now. And that’s a kind of buy-in, isn’t it? My silence. My tentative, “It’s not OK that you did that.” Or, “You can’t … Read more

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Learned helplessness

My grandmother is having a nervous breakdown. She calls her sister a bitch and breaks dishes in the sink. I’ve never heard an adult swear in English. Her face is masking, and she’s scaring me. I’m twelve; we’ve been left in her care while my … Read more

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