My mother's chores always drew my sisters and me back to her house. Over a weekend a few years ago, while we proceeded through a lengthy list, I grew committed to one task: clean a corner of the basement floor. While at it, I sensed there was something bigger I was trying to scrub away,…
Though I grew up in a wooded part of Connecticut, I felt some nature shock when my husband and I bought a house here. Twenty-two years in apartments had offset the eighteen years I'd spent in my mother's home, which sat among the same tree types I'm looking at right now: hemlock, arborvitae, birch, oak,…
In April, my flash story titled "The Outing" appeared in The Molotov Cocktail. Long time coming to stretch into fiction again! The story is, as will be quite obvious to those who know me, heavily influenced by my years in Midtown. Thank you, TMC, for including this piece.
As our first-born was turning one, my husband and I grew increasingly concerned about his safety. I have three sons now, and while I supervise quite a bit these days, back then, it was more of a vigilance. Then this thing happened, this thing that threatened our safety at the very moment my husband and…
Ten, maybe more, years into our relationship, J and I traveled to southeast Asia with my sister and her husband. While they had progressed to engagement and marriage, J and I remained in our relationship: in relation to one another, relatable for each other, sometimes unable to relate. At the Bayon Temple, Angkor Thom, Cambodia,…
