With all that is going on in the world, thousands upon thousands slammed by earthquakes and volcanoes; forest fires and hurricanes; flooding and tornadoes, and literally slammed, the loss of my cat seems so minimal. My tears seem irrelevant. Each time I call her or miss or or feel the tug of her absence, I... Continue Reading →
for Susan Tweit It is September 15. The sun seems to have hit snooze more often than I did. It is particularly lazy today, and has, perhaps, hesitated at the tree line across the street for hours. Not too subtle a reminder, let me tell you, that days are getting shorter, and worse yet, there... Continue Reading →
When I was pregnant with my girls, and not knowing they were girls, I hoped they would be. Girls. For one reason. I thought it would be easier to raise female feminists than to raise male feminists. That's my truth. Not proud. Just is. I wasn’t up to what I believed would be too difficult... Continue Reading →
It is the first day of summer and my house in Flagstaff is up for sale. After six months of packing and repairing and painting and cleaning and arranging and rearranging. After seventeen wonderful years. It is now squeezed into eight hundred characters and thirty-eight photos. All that life and love we put into that... Continue Reading →
It is Flag Day, and I am playing hookie. There is absolutely no connection. I am merely elated (odd juxtaposition of words) to have a quiet morning alone in my temporary home in Sedona, which is a rare thing these days because I spend my weekends at my permanent home in Flagstaff, thus, I have... Continue Reading →
Laya's hands are small, almost childlike, and she is a short woman, easily a head below me, but she seems to tower above me. It's not the first marvel. She escorts me, with a bit of a waddle, to the massage therapy room, and I think, "This is going to be good." Something about her fragrance,... Continue Reading →
My brother’s bedroom was off limits, but that never stopped me from many things in my youth. Having eight siblings, 72 first cousins, and hundreds of class mates at St Mary’s of Redford grade, middle and high school—let alone thousands of parishioners in our little corner of the Detroit metropolis—there was always someone not to... Continue Reading →
Drums that Heal No now, no next. Ma. Who knew that on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the Flagstaff Public Library, I would find the word I needed to capture my current state of affairs, and from Taiko drummers at that. Five performers pounding out their hearts, and pounding right into mine. This group's performance... Continue Reading →
for Kay McKay I wondered today how long it takes for someone to become an angel. Is it instantaneous? Now you're dead, now you're an angel? Is there a waiting period? A series of hoops and steps and paperwork to get desensitized from life and ready for death. Like an immigration process? A job interview? Is... Continue Reading →
I am equally embarrassed, and fortunate, to be the owner of all my stuff. A woman in transition, I have spent the first four months of this year looking at it. Sorting, choosing, remembering, cleaning, tossing, and ultimately, keeping. Some things anyway. Now that I think about it, this process began most seriously ten years... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 