The Hurt House

  It belonged to me, partly, for a short time.  The image above, of it reduced to a smoldering heap, atop its cinder block foundation, should make me sad, but doesn't.  Although I sympathize with its current settlers, displaced and robbed of their belongings, I'm glad it's gone.  If I'd been notified while it was a blaze, I…

NESTING

  The youngest of two sons moved out today, from underneath my wing, where I've held him close for 19 1/2 years, leaving behind a clichéd empty nest and a massive void rapidly filling with uncertainties. "He'll be okay" I keep telling myself, "he'll be with his big brother, they will both be okay." My…

2:21

"Might as well have a cup of coffee" I concede, slothing to the kitchen.  Nestling into the recliner, I swaddle with a homemade crocheted blanket, and take a moment to give thanks for the hands that crafted it, wondering if she too was courting the night when she made it.  My infatuation for the stillness of these wee…

Death Drop

The cancer diagnosis made me look to the heavens, asking in utter scorn, "Really?!" She never smoked, and besides a few young adult escapades, she didn't drink either.  By most standards, as far as self-inflicting, harmful habits were concerned, she exemplified sainthood.  The one bad habit she did have, however, of internalizing emotions, proved more…

Bully’s Little Girl

Displaced from a second failed marriage, I slinked back to my parents' home, with two sons, taking a front row seat to Tony's distress and ultimate decease on New Year's Eve night of that year.  The holidays tiptoed in the background, outshone by his demise. Contrary to previous anticipations, I didn't revel in the spectacle.…

Hanging By A Thread

The sirens fainted in the distance, ripping him farther from our grasp, while Vicki regurgitated the events unfolding during the hour I left him alone.  His body had blued from lack of oxygen and released its waste, while hanging from the old oak.  Chiming in, I retorted “EMS revived him and he’s on his way…

Gardening 101

Spending the summers rambling under the feet of my precious maternal grandparents, I relished the crash courses in Gardening 101.   Whether tending to their mammoth vegetable garden or planting flowers in the yard, we grandchildren were required to assist, in pulling weeds if nothing else.  Curiously intrigued by their ability to make anything grow, I…

Ashes and Medallions

They sat on my dining room table for months; tucked inside cardboard boxes, Mama and Eric’s ashes filled two plastic bags, secured by silver medallions etched with numbers. Toiling through my grief, I struggled to accept the concept that their lives lay there in boxes. If ashes were all that remained of their existences, I…