Browsing: Prose

I am a maker. Thoughts are words, words are the building materials. I hesitate to say bricks as they, the words, I mean, are as malleable as play-do, as changeable as water. I am, though, inert. My being is set,…

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Seven years ago, we left our Upper West Side co-op for many reasons. My husband needed a driveway. My toddler deserved a bedroom with windows. I had to get out of the kitchen — that narrow room, where, cramped in…

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A pen in hand works like bloodletting.  Something in the gut.  It’s the Voice of all voices asking to reign and leave my body behind, but I need more time. I trust other people when I want to believe they’re…

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I love having a belly full of babies. There are two in there, a boy and a girl, and my body gets busy making them arms and legs and hearts. I leave my job a few months early, supposedly to…

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I brought our daughter with us to the last nursing home.  Both her grandmothers were there to help me figure out the next step on our path.  She was only five and we’ve been in these type of situations since…

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There are moments in life where we hit a new level of independence and experience growth so significant that it changes our reality. I had one last night that was so strong it reminded me of leaving adolescence. My husband…

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1973: In the beginning there was mom, music, and movement. My world was rich and alive with trees, fresh fruit and vegetables, and an earthy vibration that flowed through everything I knew. 1988: The lock-down crept up on me, much…

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