“If I could turn back time” isn’t a wish to go back in time. To me, the latter is a jump of some significance – to the third grade or to 1653. The former is usually event-specific – I want a do-over for that one thing. For instance, I would have held onto my hockey cards from 1982. My estranged daughter texted me yesterday. I … Continue reading If I could turn back time – an off-the-cuff joint.
I’m folding a couple of the T-shirts that haven’t yet been demoted to dryer status when all of a sudden, I’m thinking about my son’s father’s reaction when I told him I was pregnant. We limped along for another two and a half years, but he never quite forgave me. [i] That isn’t what I’m thinking about, however. I’m thinking about the day he came … Continue reading Memories are the darndest thing.
Seven months ago, my daughter ghosted me. She was angry and upset over something I’d said and rather than talking to me about it, she went with radio silence. During a subsequent text exchange about five months later as she tried to reconnect, suggesting it had nothing to do with me, mostly. She had fallen into another abusive relationship and that had led to problems. … Continue reading You’re not as awful as you think.
From Famine to Feast 