Whenever I called out at night to my parents from my bedroom, they were there in a flash asking what I needed. Blanketing me with their love, they comforted me in every way possible. At bedtime, my father checked underneath my bed for monsters. After a bad...
My grandmother kept a baseball bat underneath her bed. Every night she’d collect the day’s burglaries, rapes and murders from the eleven o’clock news and then slide her nightstand in front of the door before climbing into the bed. Whenever my sister and I slept over...
Are we writers or women who write? Ten of us gathered for the 2013 Oaxaca Women’s Creative Writing and Yoga Retreat (link to http://wp.me/p1v1Ek-3Aa) in Oaxaca, Mexico, last week and revisit this question repeatedly during the eight days we are together. Our...
These rocking chairs speak to me. They say “Sit a while, be still. Stop worrying about the future. You can’t predict how it’s all going to turn out.” But, I feel chaotic right now. I think there’s a turning point coming in my life and I’m overwhelmed by the...
I awoke this morning stiff and sore at the sight of winter’s black, littered sidewalks. It’s in the low 30’s, the snow is melting and spring is just toying with us. The clocks are shooting bullets and minutes and seconds into our daylight hours and when I awake...
