Death Over Peppermint Tea

What would I be bold enough to tell death if I invited him to join me for a chat over a cup of warm peppermint tea?

Love Letter to Nassau

Dear Nassau, Thank you for your Junkanoo drums vibrating deep into my bones. For Straw Market bartering, beaded braids, drunken tourists and cruise ships that line your harbor. Does it bother you they rarely ask to see all of you? Thank you for people that work hard but laugh harder whose words flow in easy…

My White Skin

  Each day I walk around in white skin enjoying the safety and privilege that entails. I did nothing to earn this, but I have benefited from it from the moment I was born. Those I love the deepest, my husband and daughters, are the most beautiful of black.   One day my grandchildren will…

To TV or Not to TV?

I grew up before the internet, video games, cable TV and smart phones had been invented. My childhood electronics included a radio, alarm clock, record player, and television. I learned about the world from news my parents watched or from folded newspapers tossed on our porch in the sleepy hours of the morning. I would…

Building Bravery

Sam had both arms wrapped tightly around his mother as she opened the door on his first day of preschool.  He took a quick peek at the classroom before seeking refuge behind her again.  Sam knew his mom was going to leave.  She’d been telling him for weeks how much fun he would have at…

My Lap

Tonight my daughter crawled into my lap.  I could tell something was bothering her, but I’d learned that prying often led to her withdrawing like a turtle deep into a protective shell where I could not reach her.  But tonight when the house was silent and dark she crawled into my lap. She is nineteen…

These Hands

These hands with veins like aged snakes and wrinkles gray are getting old But once these hands were small and smooth and held a father’s hand. These hands have blocked the blows of man and faith that tried to confine. But the vastness in these hands cannot be caged. These hands have let go until…

My Proper Raincoat

My raincoat makes a swishing sound when sliding it over my arms and onto my shoulders.  Each time I put it on some part of me whispers, “Thank you.” I have lived in rainy Washington over thirty years and this is my first proper raincoat.  I’ve had second hand, make-do coats faded in color.   I’ve…