so young at the start

i met a young man.  he was too popular and too talented and i watched from a distance, quiet.  i was so broken, i gambled a kiss with him and lost on purpose. our relationship has always been a gamble. our first date was a movie.  he picked me up and sped down the highway.

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godfathers and cancer

“i spread a bunch of marigold seed, but only a few came up this year…i don’t know what went wrong.” my father is sitting next to his brother on a golf cart.  they’re riding around on the 3 acres i grew up going to every weekend or so.  he’s smoking a cigar and he’s got

wanted: one husband

i’ve spent the summer with my family. my husband has blurred.  he’s one of the five of us.  we’re all in this together. but i don’t know. sometimes i miss the two of us. apparently he could have been found on the beach in his wayne state hat making drip sand castles. that’s where i

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grandfathers and writing conferences

i left town last week.  i’m leaving again on thursday. i couldn’t leave soon enough when my children were small.  little hands hooked around my neck and breathing so close, too close.  no quiet.  always taking care. it’s not like that now. now it seems like time sneaks up on me and my ride is

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milkweed thanksgiving

it’s late. we’re under blankets in our cold bedroom.  joshua’s reading and i’m remembering the milkweed plant i saw in a garden at mazzy’s school. we don’t know it but clouds are gathering right over our heads.  we don’t know that we’ll wake up to snow and that right now a grey sky is being

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making beds

children pick up dolls and start to play while i pull bed sheets tight across twin mattresses. “let’s make this bed, please.” someone totters over to the other side and begins to chant, “tuck.  tuck.  tuck.” i am down on my knees and i watch my son’s legs walk past me.  it seems all pant

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the family vineyard

my mother is worried. the grapes ripen on the vine and the white clouds sit in bluest sky. i agree. there’s a lot to worry about. she’s telling stories. grandma bessey’s house.  she and her brother and sisters would stay there when her parents fought too long.  grandma bessey, a savior of sorts, with her

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brand new again

these summer days are being sewn together.  the thread of time pulling days side by side and making a patchwork quilt of life. i hope it covers you, child. i want light to leak from our pockets every minute. i want to look at your face and feel sweet freedom from responsibility.  i want to

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girlfriend is better

“we’re you afraid to get pregnant again?” some questions tell more than they ask. no. a simple answer to a complicated heart. let’s unmask the question, shall we? “did you consider sterilization after you had a child with down syndrome?” “were you so devastated that you didn’t get a perfect baby that you swore off

no pictures. no words.

i left my camera with his motorcycle. i didn’t bring it on purpose so i’d be all there.  so i’d be in the moment with my dad. and i missed the shot. we walked the river and there was another group of people there, too. people boarded into vans and brought out on an outing.

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