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Like an ancient rag doll, my skin is sewn with nerve stitches, to the muscle shell that contains the skeletal cage for gooey organ gears and every so often, a twinge announces the popping of a stitch or three.
My father has hearing loss. Some combination of denial, finances and health are preventing him from talking to his Doctor Dr. Nicole Schrader about hearing aids. My mother has stepped in to help my father. She doesn’t tell him what other people are mumbling instead of enunciating. My father insists that his hearing is fine, […]
When I was a child, I would hold my arms straight out from my sides and spin around and around until I fell down. I would sit on the floor and giggle until I could stand up. Then, I would spin myself dizzy again. My grandparents lived in Natchez Trace Park. Their side yard was […]
Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but I don’t think anyone warned me that aging: shows up first in your hands. As children, we must spend large quantities of time staring at our parents’ hands, because every so often I find myself staring at my hand in amazement at how much it looks like my mother’s. […]
“You have lines around your eyes, right here. There’s also lines over here and when you smile you get lines here and when you frown you get lines here and …” I would like to say I was clever and told her that trees get rings and moms get wrinkles. Instead, I glared at her […]
I like talking to Mr. Magoo. We don’t agree on politics, but I try to avoid responding to anything that I know will upset him. Mr. Magoo is closer to 70 than he is to 60 and time has left fingerprints on his vision and hearing. Mr. Magoo likes to do things with his friends. […]
Since Sarah kept complaining about Amy using her desk, I dragged Sarah’s old desk out of the garage so that Amy could have a desk of her own. The desk has been in storage for several years and I had forgotten it was multiple pastel colors. Pastel green, yellow and purple are fine for a […]
Instead of comparing life to a hill that you struggle to climb, linger a millisecond at the top and then free-fall to the bottom, let’s compare it to something else. How about comparing it to Isla Sorna with the meanest dinosaurs on the exterior of the island and the peaceful giants in the center? No? […]
Amy: “Next time I get my face painted, I’m gonna ask for a mustache so people will think I’m a grown-up.” Me: “Only boys get mustaches.” Amy: “Nuh-uh. Lots of old ladies have mustaches.” Me: blink-blink