Thinking of Maine today, and of souvenirs, in the truest sense of the word.
#52for52
Blogging once a week in my 52nd year
There will be feasting, and dancing
There’s a place in which I find myself often and though I guess technically, anyone is allowed to go there, when I look around, I see mostly middle aged moms and elderly grandmas with me. Getting misty-eyed for no apparent reason. Welling up at the drop of a hat. It’s gotten harder to pinpoint the … Continue reading There will be feasting, and dancing
Notre Dame
It was nothing short of heartbreaking to hear that Notre Dame de Paris was on fire, and nothing short of devastating to watch it burn. Its gorgeous stained-glass glory shattered in the heat, its strong, and its tall spire broke like a soggy ice cream cone before falling into the flames. Watching the church come … Continue reading Notre Dame
Driven
It is impossible to separate the memories of her early life from the car. More specifically, it is impossible to separate anything of the childhood of our family's "baby" from the minivan in which most of it took place. She had arrived into our family long after the other three, long past the tiny sedan … Continue reading Driven
I’m not Santa anymore
I have lost my job. I only just realized this today. It happened so gradually that I didn't even notice the signs, though I should have. Like many who work in the same position for a long time, I'd become good at it, and took a lot of pride in my work. It had become … Continue reading I’m not Santa anymore
Today in Annapolis
It was just a small town when I was growing up, less touristy, less suburban than it is now. The City Dock was just that—there was no Ego Alley, no ego involved—and its marine residents were not yachts or fancy sailboats then, but working boats in from fishing and oystering, their wares sold by local … Continue reading Today in Annapolis
The golden hour
The school year ended quietly at my house. It was a tough year coming to a close, on an unseasonably cool and cloudy day. A cold and broken Hallelujah. Thank you GOD, I think, I move the early-alarm button back one click to the "off" position, we made it. It's ovah. It's not all the … Continue reading The golden hour
The last words: 52/52
A flat brown package arrived at my door the other day. I had no idea what it could be. I hadn't ordered anything. It must be a birthday present, I thought, and I brightened, wondering gleefully what it might be and who might have sent it. A thing about getting older that is both terrific … Continue reading The last words: 52/52
Road to the White Blouse
"Hang on!" I yell from upstairs, even though my family is ready to leave, and in the car, which is packed for the airport and behind schedule. "I just have to change my shirt real quick." Even my daughters, who are more astute than their father and brothers in these matters, will detect no appreciable … Continue reading Road to the White Blouse
Portrait of the mom at graduation
I do not know why Commencement speakers bother giving speeches to the graduates. They are mostly not listening. The Young Adults Formerly Known As Our Children arrive at this day and at the stage proud, and celebratory, relieved and optimistic. They are happy to be with each other and—at least until somewhat later in the … Continue reading Portrait of the mom at graduation
Past the horizon
I must have once known more than their last names: Hudson, Columbus, Magellan, Verrazzano. Surely once I knew all and not just some of their first names: where they started out, what they discovered, the names of some of their boats. But I have forgotten most all of that now. I am only even reminded … Continue reading Past the horizon
Showing up, empty-handed
Honestly, you guys, it's awfully late in the day, late in the week, and oh-so late in the year-long #52for52 project to be trying to come up with anything brilliant and new. It is my own damn fault. I know this. I haven't been writing enough, haven't bothered to turn on the tap and let … Continue reading Showing up, empty-handed
Mary
It doesn't feel like spring to most of us this year, but the calendar, stubborn and rigid as it is, insists that it is upon us, that we are nearly to May. And if you were ever a little girl in Catholic school, May was also a month in which you might have hoped to … Continue reading Mary
The mom is not in the movie
My son pulled out of our driveway seven weeks ago, a dark-haired beauty at his side, the long journey ahead eclipsed only by the longer one behind him. It wasn't for college that he left; it's been years since he left for that, and some fewer since he came back home, sheepskin in hand, the … Continue reading The mom is not in the movie
Scars as beauty
“We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, 'I survived'.” - Chris Cleave, Little Bee It was Thanksgiving Day, and the turkey was nearly done. I was outfitted for the task at hand, which … Continue reading Scars as beauty
Holy Saturdays
It's Holy Saturday today, a day when nothing happened. It gets lost amid all the flashier days of Holy Week but it is the part that I relate to the most. Palm Sunday looked like so much fun, didn't it? All pomp and circumstance, and weren't they lucky to have such perfect weather? The Facebook … Continue reading Holy Saturdays
Spring snow (or, My life as a Hygge-not)
It is the second day of spring, a season for which, year after year, I fall hard and fast in love. But the only thing falling hard and fast today is the snow. Even the 10-day forecast looks dismal, in spite of the cheery delivery of the pregnant meteorologist who somehow still looks gorgeous on TV. Bitterly, I … Continue reading Spring snow (or, My life as a Hygge-not)
The stillness of the stone
“There’s something about the stillness of the stone,” my friend had said, seeming to understand immediately my stammering explanation of why we’d bought the old place. She was just the sort of New Age friend who would say such a thing, so I ought not have been surprised. I was though, just the same, surprised and pleased … Continue reading The stillness of the stone
Promises, promises
The lady behind the jewelry store counter had, quite suddenly, grown still. She'd been, until now, in constant motion, moving back and forth between me and the velvet box at her side, its rows upon rows of sizing rings resting in velvet pockets. We'd been busy trying the sizing rings on my left hand, one … Continue reading Promises, promises
Stories and small things
Two of these murders – Sean’s and Sebastian’s – remain unsolved. Reposting this today, for them.
Some of the stories will really get to you.
They’ll get to you through your television if the stories are interesting, or surprising in some way, and especially if the murder victims are wealthy or white. If there is someone there to notice, to mourn, to tell the TV people the stories of how the dead lived or died, in a way that will sound interesting to cable customers in the enormous and mostly-suburban Baltimore County, which manages to fully encircle Baltimore City without ever fully embracing it. In those cases, their stories will be told and if you’re anything like me – mostly ignoring the always-awful news, just trying to keep your head low and take in a Modern Family on a Wednesday night – it’s only then, when the stories get to you, that you’ll pay attention.
I am not proud of this. I am just telling you…
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The Struggle Bus
My grown up kids take city buses all the time. I know nothing of the routes and schedules they know by heart, of how safe or dangerous it is for them. Of the mistakes they could make and perhaps sometimes do, of where they get off, of how they pay their fare. Lately, though, a … Continue reading The Struggle Bus
A letter to the baby of the family
We need to have a talk. It’s about something important. It’s about who your parents are. You've noticed, I'm sure, that sometimes I treat you differently than your older siblings. Well, there’s a reason for that. You're old enough now, and it’s time we talked about it. You have a different mom than the other … Continue reading A letter to the baby of the family
BELOVED MINIVAN DIES, FAMILY REMEMBERS
BALTIMORE, MD (February 9, 2018) Minivan Thompson has died, having lost a lengthy and courageous battle with the Maryland Vehicle Emissions Inspection Program. She was 14 years and 181,584 miles old. A 2005 Town & Country whose green color was enigmatically called "Magnesium" by the Chrysler Corporation, Minnie was born in Fairway, Kansas, a suburb of … Continue reading BELOVED MINIVAN DIES, FAMILY REMEMBERS
Wavy glass
I am an old house person. To clarify, it is the house is in this sentence is old, not the person. It's not that I'm not an old person; I absolutely am, as evidenced—and rather unkindly harped upon on a daily basis, I might add—by the magnifying mirror I had installed in my bathroom when I was … Continue reading Wavy glass
College for the caboose
We're on a college visit for the caboose. If this sounds fun, exciting, or even mildly interesting, let me remind you that I am in my fourth round of this game, one that began a lifetime ago, in 2007. The three oldest kids were closer in age, and we did college visits and applications in … Continue reading College for the caboose
Triangles
"We had a lockdown drill today." From the back seat, she was relating the events from her school day—more specifically, from the sixth grade—while I drove her home. I often wondered what percentage of the conversations between me and my youngest child, who had, quite literally, grown up in the car, had gone exactly like … Continue reading Triangles
Fragile
I was planning to take this on, as they say, "in my next life". But I have realized that this plan, necessitated as it is by the demise of this life—which I am otherwise really enjoying and pretty deeply investing in continuing—is not as foolproof as I would like. Even in a best case scenario, … Continue reading Fragile
Pencil marks
It just never occurred to me to discuss the door jamb. The kids were little, which is to say that they were almost always messy, which was not great, and often sticky-handsy, which was even worse. The first two vertical feet of walls and corners and door jambs of our little house could, to an … Continue reading Pencil marks
On the occasion of his 80th birthday
Last year on this day, at the very beginning of 2017, I linked this blog post to my Facebook page, "outing" myself as a blogger, and as a wannabe writer. I cannot tell you how terrifying this was. My hands shook. My heart raced. I felt like I was going to throw up. It still … Continue reading On the occasion of his 80th birthday
How to knit a grown up
The holidays are over now, for real. Every young adult iteration of Christmas break—from the all-too-brief workaday kind to the endless weeks-on-end college kind—has ended. The “big kids” are gone. They have returned now to their parallel universes: their schools, jobs, and lives in townhouses, apartments, and smaller apartments where they live, places that, I … Continue reading How to knit a grown up
I can’t even
I hate to mention this, Moms of the World, though it is a truth that you already know. Christmas is drawing near. We are all running out of time. And because we are moms, and there is always so much around the holidays—even if our shopping is done and our wrapping is complete, even if … Continue reading I can’t even
Being Santa
I have lost my job. I only just realized this today. It happened so gradually that I didn't even notice the signs, though clearly I should have. Like many who work in the same position for a long time, I'd become good at it, and I took a lot of pride in the work I … Continue reading Being Santa
Becoming Real
The Velveteen Rabbit has never sounded quite the same to me since breast cancer. I always found Margery Williams’ classic tale to be a somewhat dark and tragic and not at all Christmas-y story, what with the incidence and management of scarlet fever, and the burning of the child’s toys and all. But my kids … Continue reading Becoming Real
Opening doors
Advent, the season of watchful waiting, begins today. Not in the official, liturgical, grown up kind of way, which I think must start this coming Sunday, but in the other, childish kind of way. The one that commences December 1st and that begins with that first little, colorful, and numbered cardboard door opening the way … Continue reading Opening doors
grateful
grateful just that, today on its own without qualifier or explanation without maybe soon or someday or if only or except the space around it allowing room for it and me and everything to be enough #52for52 (26/52)
Stories and small things
Some of the stories will really get to you. They'll get to you through your television if the stories are interesting, or surprising in some way, and especially if the murder victims are wealthy or white. If there is someone there to notice, to mourn, to tell the TV people the stories of how the … Continue reading Stories and small things
Taking stock
When the first chill comes—even when it is long overdue, when we have been on delightful late-summer borrowed time for weeks, when we know we cannot in good conscience complain—even then, when it comes, some of us get a little weird. It doesn't help that Daylight Savings Time is a bandit, stealing our beloved afternoons, … Continue reading Taking stock
23, on the way to 52
My daughter turned 23 this week, and so did my #52for52 project. Significantly more time was spent planning and executing a celebration of the first event, which, predictably, resulted in a mild neglect of the second. But you know how much I like numbers, and coincidences, so you will not be surprised to hear that … Continue reading 23, on the way to 52
Autumn 1970
Whisked out into the cold fall air I remember no words spoken just the unnerving strangeness of a night journey My father driving us in the car having been spirited from our beds and wearing heavy coats over pajamas our footie-feet scratching over leaves as we hurried out huddled together on the back seat as … Continue reading Autumn 1970
Filtered light
"Don’t you love how the light is there?" Light and dark meant something different when I was younger, and my kids were little, probably because, like all of us moms, I was so busy. Light and dark were just days and nights of blurry movement that ran together, one exactly like the day before. To … Continue reading Filtered light
Stolen (#MBCAD)
I still keep their names in a list. Technically, I don’t need to hang on to the list; I mean, I don’t even work there anymore. I never really needed to keep a list in the first place; it just seemed to me like there should be some kind of a record of their names. I … Continue reading Stolen (#MBCAD)
A new stage of breast cancer “awareness”
It’s October again. I know this not from the calendar, or by the pumpkins. I had not yet noticed the leaves beginning change, or the days ending earlier. But I know with certainty that it is October because I am a breast cancer survivor, and everywhere I look, everything, it seems, is pink. October, as … Continue reading A new stage of breast cancer “awareness”
The times I wish I’d said Yes
My daughter was probably six or seven at the time. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in fall and we were at the soccer field. Her hair was pulled into French braids which were never as good as I would have liked, but were the best I could do, in a failing attempt to keep … Continue reading The times I wish I’d said Yes
Plein air
I long to be a plein air painter, carrying my easel in a case on my back, my tools of creation upon and within me. I would wander about, as artists do, searching for the just-right spot. (Artists have a good eye for that.) I would be a part of and apart from the landscape, … Continue reading Plein air
“We belong”
I can name that tune in two notes. It doesn't take any notes, really; just those two words will work just fine to cue the Pat Benatar song in my head. I wanted to put the next word in the title, too, which is of course together, but it turns out that you can only … Continue reading “We belong”
Parent Jail
Maybe if I'd watched more prison movies, it would be easier. Maybe I'd be better at this. At staying, successfully, on the outside. As it is, my knowledge of more typical incarceration and parole, and the scourge of recidivism, is limited mostly to the Shawshank Redemption, and the dozens of times that I've painstakingly watched … Continue reading Parent Jail
Driven
It is impossible to separate the memories of her early life from the car. More specifically, it is impossible to separate anything of the childhood of our family's "baby" from the minivan in which most of it took place. She had arrived into our family long after the other three, long past the tiny sedan … Continue reading Driven
The swimsuit story
This is the real and true story of the First Day That I Had My Mom-Shit Together. It was also the last, for reasons you will soon see. I can only say that I was young and misguided and that I totally deserved every bit of the humiliation that happened that day. And that it … Continue reading The swimsuit story
A moving poem
It's been quite a week My big kids have been home! So all I can muster For this week is a poem Starting schools and new jobs Moving their stuff to another New place, they have needed Some help from their mother It's the end of the week now And so late at night But … Continue reading A moving poem
MEMO: System alert
Now that you know that I am (ahem) "bad with transitions", it should come as no surprise to you, here in the second week of August, that systems are breaking down. To: All Users From: Mom Re: Technical issues We are aware that some of our non-essential systems that are currently down, and that users … Continue reading MEMO: System alert
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