It’s morning and I awake, not to an alarm, but to bright sunlight streaming through a crack in my door. Cradled maternally by my mattress, I’ve slept so hard the sheets have left deep creases on my skin. My consciousness attempts the swim through layers of fog; “What day is it?” “Where, exactly, am I?” Read More
Every birth has a story, ripe for the telling, though the tale varies with the perspective of the teller. The closest view belongs to the mother; it is her body, after all, that houses the new life, she who evicts her burgeoning occupant. Spin the lens 180º and it is the father’s story. Once removed Read More
I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am. Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar There’s a stillness that descends on the hospital late at night, softening the harshness of bright lights and the sterility of hard floors. Sounds are muted and voices are hushed. Read More
I’m washing up in a restroom at the Oklahoma City airport and for a moment I can’t place my location: hospital? hotel? restaurant? Elegant water faucets and gleaming granite countertops add to my sense of disorientation. I don’t even recognize my own hands. Looking down at the palms rubbing together, the lather foaming, I watch Read More
Aaaaaaand just like that, Christmas is over. The preparation, the anticipation, the actualization; come and gone for another year. My beautiful live tree adorned in sparkling red and gold is dead, morphed into an endearing Dr. Suess caricature; its pliant needles turned brittle and sharp, its majestic branches drooping sadly, ornaments lowered to the floor Read More
My husband and I had dinner last week with another couple, friends of ours expecting their first child(ren), twins, and expecting them soon. As we joked about the wife’s swelling feet and widening girth, (and the good fortune that her husband is strong enough to hoist her off the couch), I notice beneath her overt Read More
Sister, you been on my mind.
Sister, we’re two of a kind.
Oh, sister, I’m keepin’ my eye on you.
‘Miss Celie’s Blues’ from TheColor Purple.
My little sister thinks I hung the moon. Even though I tortured her when we were young—literally—to this day she affords me hero-worship of which I am entirely undeserving. And when she’s in pain, I still find myself wanting to make everything better though she’s across the country and not in the next room. 2,000 miles separate us now and our visits are too few, too far between. The reunions are bittersweet. Even still, after a few days together well-worn patterns resurface. I can be controlling and bossy. She tends towards flighty and irresponsible. But we have the same nose. And thighs. We laugh at the same jokes. We share memories of times both good and not so good. When we’re together we are children again and neither time nor distance can alter that connection. Sisters; the love/hate bond of this relationship is like no other, making it one of the most sustaining to span a lifetime. Read More