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Tag Archives: Lois Greene Stone
Slanted ceiling, missing wallboard from supporting beams, attics in film seem stuffed with memories and no longer used items. Are noises the mind’s tricks tempting us to climb a ladder into that space? Allowing concealed steps to drop, a sound … Continue reading
I knit you a yellow wool hat with grosgrain streamers to tie under your infant neck. No ultrasounds existed so I selected a unisex color. Later you wore wooly hats handmade by my mother; she always made a pom-pom from … Continue reading
The three-speed green bicycle had both tires flat. I moved it away from the garage wall. A rusted kickstand scraped as I forced airless rubber tires to turn. I squeezed the handbrakes. Years ago, my daughter whizzed from the garage, … Continue reading
I touched my mother’s hands; they weren’t swollen with the familiar plumpness from arthritis. With great effort, she was sitting having her hair done so I’d see her ‘well’. Someone once said that hospital patients are ready for release when … Continue reading
“August 1945,” my mother let out a deep sigh. She wrapped a Swirl cotton dress around her naked body, feeling more comfortable without the extra undergarments. New York was hot and humid. She opened her shoe hassock, looked inside at … Continue reading
I stood in the corridor of the chemistry department; its characteristic odor bothered me. As I moved into the formation a teacher suggested it was time to make, I could see beakers, microscopes, atomic element charts through the panel of … Continue reading