Tag Archives: memories

Of death, and days

(for my great-grandmother) And crabapple orchards and hand-carved woodtravel souvenirs and decades-oldhard candies in delicate dishes. Named Pearl,she did both agitateand shine. Her noodles were legendary.(I got sick on them once,and that was the end of that.) Her crooked old … Continue reading

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Study Hall & -Otes 

We’ve both got Biology homework and so we start there and Mr. G. is in charge of all us derelicts today any-way so if we have any questions, he’s here.  (Although he’s the one who always says “Better to keep your mouth closed and remaina fool … Continue reading

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Happy Trails 

Ainsley was only 3, and she called me ‘Misty,” because I guess when you’re 3 your preschool  teacher ‘Miss De’ sounds like ‘Misty.’ And she’d be about 38 years old now and sometimes I want to tell her I still feel Misty. … Continue reading

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This isn’t about the silver-flecked formica table or the red hot cinnamon Santa eyes or the fresh-ground nutmeg scent or the dough up to her elbows.  It’s not about the orange in the stocking’s toe or the silver dollars or the bunk beds or the … Continue reading

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sticky fingers and sunshine

..   those grapevines spilled over into our yard from theirs, and my tiny people liked to be lifted up to borrow a juicy burst of morning with hungry crimson hands.   .. Twiglet #16.   

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… We shirr ourselves together from invisible strings, clustering in flocks and crowds like birds, mustering our faith. Colorful chairs unfolding, holding our memories. Our laughter, like bright awnings from the street. We swear by flowers, mosaics, the smell of … Continue reading

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Promenades and Hammers

He died because he wanted to dance. Had a girlfriend named Mary, love of second chances; (Gran left him for a banker years ago). They loved square dancing, and he had those Dougherty knees, perhaps from kneeling on the job … Continue reading

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Feeling Like I Could Breathe Again

.. I remember standing on a lawn and watching bats fly out of our attic. I was 3. I remember the little red rims the cinnamon Santa eyes would leave behind when we ate them off of all Gram’s cookies. … Continue reading

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That Certain Slant of Sunlight

.. This isn’t about the curtains. (Lacy, fluttering in a lazy afternoon breeze.) Not really. And it’s not about the pale porcelain bowls or the way plain old vanilla ice cream tasted better out of them than at home. It’s … Continue reading

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Unpacking Childhood

..  I would dabble with dolls, sure. Dress them in the morning as if I had woken my child and gotten her ready for the day. Feed them breakfast and put them down for their nap, and then prompt -ly … Continue reading

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