Alisha Goldblatt Tracing the Faultlines We can’t choose our family, of course, nor is the warmth and reliability of our neighbors ever a guarantee. But somehow on this street of mostly transplanted now-Mainers, we won the lottery. Never mind…
Tatiana Johnson Boria Saturn After each visit to your grandmother’s group home, over the past two decades, I’ve learned the art of capturing. Of forcing my mind to remember my mother in all of her dimensions. I use these…
Tamara J. Madison Dispatch My mother suffered Beauty, having so much of it, being sought after, suitors lined and vying for her attention. What to do with all that fineness? It must have been a lot of upkeep to…
Lisa Moak Bonding With Stone My mother was a go-go dancer, or so I was told. I never met my mother. I doubt she was allowed to hold me before I was whisked away to foster care, then adopted.…
Elizabeth H. Winkler Love Languages My mother irons my pillowcases, smoothing their wrinkles into sharp edges—crisp. There is a poem in that. An essay, too, and maybe even a song. I want to tell her there’s no need; I…
Mothers and Family This year, MER is examining the ins and outs of mothers with families, both online and in our forthcoming print issues. Often mothers are the nuclei of families—of the legacies, obligations, and stories that orbit around…
Jessica Yen Houdini When your second child has been thrashing for twenty-one minutes in their bassinet, you finally recognize, with a clarity you could not have possessed with your eldest, that your infant is so achingly overtired they are…
Jen Bryant Lessons My son hunches over a math worksheet, brow furrowed in concentration. He solves an addition problem quickly, then reconsiders, doubling back. I watch as he erases carefully, then pencils a new answer over the gray smudge…
Tracie Adams All My Love, Monitored and Recorded There never seemed to be a good time to see the jail’s number on our caller ID. The phone ringing didn’t surprise us, but it sure pissed us off. Our oldest…
Nettie Reynolds Crossing the Canyon In June 2011, a month after my divorce was finalized, I packed up the car in Austin, Texas, and took the first of what would become many trips with my two kids—my nine-year-old son,…
Melissa Fraterrigo Mother-Daughter Osmosis Last week, my daughter Eva and I walked to the neighborhood swimming pool a few blocks from our house. The sun glinted off the water’s surface as Eva and I tossed our towels on lounge…
Jennifer Harris One Hundred and Forty-One Miles I was walking up 19th Street in Dupont Circle listening to Sinead O’Connor’s You Cause As Much Sorrow on my iPhone. She’s saved under my “Goth Alt” list, which, if you must…