Tag Archives: mother

Pub crawl

We’d lost count of the bars. Nine? Thirteen? It was impossible to say. At first we had a pint per pub, but then there were shots. And now mayhem.

I’d piggy-backed a man who had run shirtless through a parking lot, and dumped both of … Read more

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OG

I’ve been working indoors all afternoon, and find them afterward sitting on the driveway painting. The grandkid has a swatch of orange across her forehead.

“You’ve got some orange paint on your forehead, kid,” I tell her.

She wipes her hands across her face several … Read more

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Thirteen

When I turned 12, I took a certification class with the Red Cross, and started babysitting. All the money went into my college fund, but eventually I used it to buy one terrible car in high school, and then one miraculous one that I’d drive … Read more

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I can see more from out here

I thought girls actually used pencils to darken lines beneath their eyes. The same pencils we used to take bubble tests. That seemed so brave to me. Like something a pirate would do. Lined up in the hallway, waiting to march out to the playground, … Read more

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On the suffering of others

When my child was three, he inadvertently squirted hand soap into his eyes. We were in the kitchen. He screamed. SCREAMED. I lifted him into the sink and ran water over his eyes, but when I had him open them, I hadn’t gotten all the … Read more

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Stirrup

You have been ill. Your body wrung out like a wash cloth. The parts of your brain where the lights live have closed for repairs.

“I don’t understand,” your boss says, “why we aren’t all in the streets. Why aren’t we all in the streets?”… Read more

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The giveaway

The kid had already performed St. James Infirmary for Talent Show tryouts. Yet, we sat in the audience anyway. Maybe this year they were required to stay until the last performer had auditioned. His buddy was called to go home. And still we stayed. I … Read more

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Child

Years ago, my coworker had this sad, half-broken smile on her face when she told me that her 26-year-old son had survived for two years playing online poker because jobs were for suckers. “My son is a mystery to me,” she said.

And I had … Read more

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Spiral bound

When I was a kid, I wrote the names of my potential children at the back of my spiral-bound notebook. The rest of the notebook was filled with random journal entries and dozens of poems. They were terrible names. Brad. BRAD? But I wrote them … Read more

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The boy on the stage

My son is what used to be called dreamy. A child with worlds inside him, and a narrative always mid-story. This week, I’ve been at his school every day. A band and orchestra concert. An afternoon of running to raise funds for the school. The … Read more

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