When I answered our rotary phone, the voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar. I didn’t want to tell him I was alone in the house. But this guy was persistent. He peppered me with questions about my parents’ whereabouts, when I expected them back. “Wait, who are you again?” “I’m your…
I have written about my sleep issues before, but I haven’t fully explained I have always been a night owl. This has never been a convenient trait, and it drove my parents crazy. They would put me to bed and we all knew this was a silly game we were playing, that I was not…
Ah, the sounds of France. The sea crashing onto the beaches at Normandy mixed with the respectful hushed voices at the World War II cemetery, the rapid fire native French speakers I strained to understand, the clank of the manual metal elevator doors in the charming small hotels, and the beat of the techno music…
“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…
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…