Posts from the “Random” Category

Gone Fishin’

Posted on May 13, 2014

We are in the throes of a kitchen renovation. Tomorrow the kitchen sink will be dismantled, there will be no sink until at least Saturday, likely later. I am flirting with pouting about it. I thought that I’d culled all there was to cull when I emptied the cabinets and yet I can tell I have things that are tethered to me in some sort of subconscious, self-defeating sentimentality. Each trip to the makeshift dish station sees me making halting jerky moves as I consider and then reconsider adding something to the donate pile. It was a relief to drive away from the house and its suffocating prison of to-dos.

Here’s a peek at what we did for a sweet sliver of the weekend and here is a link to Suzi Banks Baum’s blog Laundry Line Divine. She invited me to write a post about #WhatMothersMake

 

Just Perfect

Posted on May 7, 2014

I had a preoccupation as a little girl that people around me would die. Actually, it wasn’t about people around me, it was my mom; I actively worried that I would lose her. There are moments when the pangs of fear that I would feel come back to me, not as fear of losing her now, but that very raw feeling of being 8 and afraid that she’d be swallowed up by something and be out of reach to me. I think it was in that time, in those moments in our house on the hill, the twists of brown and gold rug beneath my feet and the weight of fearing my mom’s death all around me, that I developed my tendency to say…

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A New Dance

Posted on April 23, 2014

  We were sitting in my living room while the girls sprinted around the house.  My mom leaned over to me and whispered, “We took care of the Easter Bunny.” My stomach dropped, I’d completely forgotten. The next sensation was embarrassment, had they handled Easter because they saw that I wasn’t? I searched her face. The “we” tickled at me, confusing me. She hadn’t been out alone with Papa to do a shop. The look on her face was foreign, a little bit of guilt, maybe excitement, and something else, a kind of sympathetic pain, maybe. “Briar,” she said it so softly. The familiar sound rocked me. Briar. I mouthed the word back to her. Briar. She nodded. “We were driving along and she said,…

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