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Category Archives: Creative Non-fiction
Only when she poops though. Every time we’re getting ready to go out somewhere I glance at her reflection while doing my eyeliner and see the tears welled up in her eyes. We’ve known each other so long, I ignore … Continue reading
If you’re squeamish about urine, you might not want to read this. Otherwise, proceed. This is the story of my bladder. I am seventy years old. Every woman my age has a bladder story. I never had chronic bladder problems … Continue reading
My mother, my brother Danny, and I recently placed our ninety-year-old husband/father into a memory care facility. He has advanced dementia, he’s had a string of mini-strokes, and he’s become impossible for our mother to care for and control at … Continue reading
When I was elementary-school-aged during the Sixties in Arlington, Virginia, my parents couldn’t decide whether they loved or hated me. They felt the same way about my younger brother Danny. Our mother was warm, generous, supportive, and kind. However, frequently, … Continue reading
Another fucking Lock Down. The other kids think I’m a slug ’cause I sit in class with my head on the desk but I’m fast. When I hear the announcement, I run to the inside of the back corner, huddle … Continue reading
Towering cathedral trees stalk gospel clouds as they wish away their leaves and brace themselves, stiff for the approaching winter. Breath mist freezing in the crisp vital air with every step squelching splatting disturbed mud paths to nowhere and everywhere, … Continue reading
The past year gives one the suspicion that American society is dysfunctional. Our Congress is useless, our institutions inept. Faced with the terror of existence, young men react with violence. Faced with manageable problems such as reforming health care, our … Continue reading