I hope I get her agates when she dies. Maybe not her entire collection, for I don’t want to appear greedy. Even one amber agate to soften the excruciating loss of her. I imagine cradling it. Letting the essence of her wash over me. She would laugh, “There is no agate door to me onceContinue reading “Agates”
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?
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 willContinue reading “My White Skin”
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 wouldContinue reading “To TV or Not to TV?”
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 atContinue reading “Building Bravery”
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 nineteenContinue reading “My Lap”
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 untilContinue reading “These Hands”
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’veContinue reading “My Proper Raincoat”