One day, summers ago, I saw my physical duplicate crossing a quiet side street in small town Michigan. A visit “home,” I was driving somewhere to somewhere else, a nondescript errand in a place often defined by them, I stopped at an unnecessary stoplight,...
This weekend I am on the North Carolina coast with women who attended the last Women’s Creative Writing and Yoga Retreat in Oaxaca, Mexico. We look east over the Atlantic Ocean, hear the lull of waves, write, share meals, tell life stories, sip good Oaxaca mezcal,...
There are those days when my best-laid writing plans get lost among the myriad needs of my household, my family of four, my scattered mind. On a day or a series of days like that, I find it nearly inevitable that I end the night with a berate of myself: “You need to...
People keep asking me: “Are you still writing?” My answer is not always enthusiastic, “yes,” but I wish it were. I have less time and most of my energy is reserved for my child. With some help from friends, I’m trying to accept the times I’m not writing. Time is...
The phone rings, my mother. The cancer has returned, stage four. My cellphone vibrates, a text from my sister. Have you talked to mom? After two lengthy and direct conversations, I convince my mom to consider other treatment facilities. Three days later she agrees. I...
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” No, Juliet, I disagree. The rolling R, the long, open O ready for surrender, the soft, sensual S. Names have power. In biblical myth, Adam’s first order of business included naming the flora, the fauna, and oh, yes, his...
