Because my mother is no longer alive to ask, I try to imagine the emotions that would have been swirling through her mind as she entered Penn Station on an unknown day in early January of 1944—fear, excitement—surely she must have experienced both. It was cold then, temperatures hovered around 27 degrees—and although I don’t […]
Losing Ellie
Losing Ellie, my husband’s mother, was one of the most difficult things our family has experienced. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared us for her unexpected loss of life. What I have found is emotions stay. They don’t remain at the surface the way dried blood does as a scab to the skin. No, emotional wounds are different. All that […]
I Never Expected to Grieve for My Mother
Lined up in the garage as if they are expecting us still are the dining room chairs of my youth. In all, there are five. Yet now, as if in a dream, I see eight. Eight wood chairs—each pushed under an antique table that, if you were not seated in the middle where the leaves […]
Write What Haunts You
“Write what haunts you, lest you spend your life amidst drivel. Write what you care most about, the beauty, the absurdity, and the sorrow of the world.”–Jane Resh Thomas In the quiet of an unoccupied room I exhaled the words I’d just read in a whisper… “Write what haunts you…” Had you asked me prior to […]
Baking and Memory
Crouched down I retrieved the binder which is beyond bursting with recipes—some clipped from newspaper, some from magazines, while others were passed on. I knew what I was looking for when I flipped the tab marked “breads” to the side. Her long-hand penmanship came into view; involuntarily I sat on the cold tile beneath the […]
Folded, Hanging and Boxed: My Closet Life
Whenever I purge my closet, I always imagine the results will be long-lasting. I know I’m deluding myself, but I consider indulging in the fantasy pretty cheap entertainment. There are articles of clothing which, no matter how long I keep them, still aren’t my style. The fact that they droop from flimsy wire hangers only […]
My Parent’s Letters
“It was simple prophecy.” My mother used to say when describing both her vision and the prediction that she would marry my father the first time she laid eyes on him. “I could see it…” her hand opened in front of her as if she were showing me a painting, then with eyes closed, her […]
