I’m kidding about the title. I’m trying to catch up on my “Bachelorette” watching and since they are in the exotic travel portion of the show, I’m so sick of hearing them say “X and such is the perfect place to fall in love” I could spit. This weekend, Dave and I went to Ohio…
I don’t celebrate Father’s Day. I have to remind Dave about dates, so he’s always late sending his Dad a card, because I never know when Father’s Day is until it’s here. I’ve written about Dad a little bit here. Some people shocked me in comments by pointing out the obvious affection in these posts….
“Hankie, keys. Comb, wallet-ey…” God, seriously? “Dad, I’m going to be late for school.” But my complaint doesn’t have the desired effect of stopping my Dad. He is compelled to start his ritual over again. Depending on how late we were and whether my brother was around to join in with me in interrupting him…
I’ve never tried Mama Kat’s writing prompts before, but I’ve long been intrigued and intimidated by the six-word memoir, so this week I felt compelled to give it a whirl. Like some of the other entries I’ve seen, I came up with more than one, but my favorite is: Turning over a new leaf daily….
Late at night, I would sit next to my older brother and watch him play Lode Runner on our Apple IIe. The room was dark except for the bluish glow cast by the monitor. The room was quiet except for the sharp, but hollow-sounding game noises and our whispering about strategy and barely stifled laughter…
“My family and I saw your Dad with his campaign signs the other day,” one of my friends from school said to me one day. And what a sight he must have been, I thought. Embarrassment quickly flushed my face with a ruddy warmth. “Oh my God,” I muttered. What else could I say? ***************************…
Sting sang to me through my headphones as my Mom drove our getaway car. The haunting sounds of the song “Fragile” perfectly matched the fresh wound of the argument replaying in my mind. “Tomorrow’s rain will wash the stains away, but something in our minds will always stay.” I clutched my walkman and sunk into…
Imagine a classroom of first graders, a group of six-year-olds in their first formal school experience. Now imagine the teacher openly labeling some of these children as “good” and the others as “bad.” Sounds ridiculous, right? My Mom did her best to prepare me for the start of first grade since past experience indicated I…
The electricity was out that evening, and it was hot and stuffy and dark inside the house. We sat on the porch to enjoy the last bit of light and the slight breeze. We sat in silence in the fading light and rocked while he held my hand. I felt complete contentment in that moment…
My childhood best friend lived next door to us. She was three years older than me, three years more creative and more fun. Playing with her was much more fun than playing by myself and those were usually my only options. We were inseparable, especially during the summer. She would come over and make up…