I wrote about my mom's relationship with a married man and how that played into her mental illness, in my memoir Girls, Assassins & Other Bad Ideas. One fact I'm continually reminded of is that so often, as children living in our childhoods, we can't recognize dysfunction for what it is because we lack any [...]
I heard her laugh often. I saw her mean. I watched her love. I learned from her silent action to do for someone else. Always. Always for someone else. She was not of the generation that considered the idea of self-care. I loved the way her wrinkly fingers would wash my lips after we ate [...]
For several weeks now I have been having intense and realistic dreams. Many of them were taking place in my grandmother's home–a space that held the majority of my happy moments growing up. Her home was more my childhood home than my address on file with the school. When I was twelve and went into [...]
Happy birthday, mom. This is the first one without you here and it's weird... I don't like it. In my forty-six years in this world I have spent far more of your birthdays celebrating you long distance, than with you. I never loved that either because we all know how much I love a good [...]
Rainy Day in May... 