family

Most Days

Most days I am not pretty- Too many things gone wrong to be pretty- Anything but pretty- I’m not a flower in your vase- I’m the one...

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Like My Son, Who I Lost

He reminded me of my son; my son who I lost. He had the same hair, brown and tousled; the same eyes, vacant, almond oceans of angst. I...

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Zombie Nation

I have met too many friends and foes that say they don’t care about politics. They don’t care about equality, racism, mental...

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Scars

Proud muscle Battered and bruised A child, proud of strength And power That came with skinned knees and bruised shins Launching – Into...

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What Do You Mean There is no Such Thing as Half Jewish?

What do you mean there is no such thing as half Jewish? This was my question when I saw Alyssa Pinsker’s article in The Forward on...

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Scar Tissue

I cringe every time Dad touches her. He compulsively straightens the Blue Jays pin my brother attached to her favorite blouse, the yellow...

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Maybe It Wasn’t My Fault

Lacey could tell something was off. “What’s wrong, Mom?” “Nothing, Honey. But we need to talk – all of us.” Her mother meant...

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Tucking In

We stood on the hillside, the early July sun warm, the notes of Danny Boy on the bagpipes lingered in the blue air.  It was not like...

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Learning to Thrive

In July 2014, in Okinawa, Japan, I got pregnant with our second boy. Fresh off a miscarriage and two months before we were due to move...

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When the Bomb Sounds

My uncle has been sending me letters. He’s been telling me about his time in Vietnam. How, even though it was just a tiny percentage of...

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After Dinner

My twenty-year-old son, Billy, and his girlfriend, Alex, nineteen, cooked dinner for me tonight. Gemelli pasta in a cream sauce with...

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My Truths

I am almost 42 years old, in the middle chapter of my life. Large volumes of experiences are now behind me, and large volumes are yet to...

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The First Time I Saw My Baby Sleeping

The first time I saw my baby sleeping was on Highway 89 halfway between Lake Tahoe and Truckee. His head was slightly tipped back and he...

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First Comes Love, Then Comes?

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Deanna pushing a baby carriage. Most of us grew up singing this little ditty in the...

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Post-Holiday Grief: No More Christmases

On December 3, 2015, my parents – at 73 years of age – moved to Los Angeles, from New York City. The city they had lived in,...

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Not Your Daughter

my father never saw me smoke he didn’t see the way the clouds come out of my mouth and make beautiful shapes in the sultry sky between me...

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The Night Before Christmas 2017

It was the week before Christmas, when all through the house The kids were asleep, but the parents were out. They searched through the...

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Why Did You Kill My Sister?

“To rise, first you must burn.” ― Hiba Fatima Ahmad Dear Mike, When you were alive, I never quite knew the day of your birthday. Kay...

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Breathe

Breathe. The simple act of pulling the world in and swallowing. When I was a kid, I used to hold my breath underwater for 74 seconds. I...

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I Won Second Prize in a Beauty Contest and Collected More Than $10

Since the day I could count, my brother and I battled dozens of times in family tournaments of Monopoly. Before each match, he would...

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Secret Life of Nimu

A story of grief, healing and hope. The essay traces a woman’s trip to her hometown after the death of her husband. The traditions that...

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“I Love You, Daddy”

I admit it; it’s true. I’m far too sensitive for a grown man. At any given moment, I could easily find myself whimpering, sniffling or...

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Death of a Racist Cousin

when the death call came your confederate ideas and vile vernacular came swinging back at me like a bloody noose from our haunted family...

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Grandmother-ish

Originally published November 27, 2016 Trudging up the stairs to my grandmother’s third-floor walkup in Manhattan we finally arrive at...

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Oneiric projectiles: Dreaming My Female Ancestors Forward

My mother comes to pick me up from kindergarten and is pulled aside by the teacher. “Your daughter doesn’t color between the lines.”...

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I Have Three Children

The question I dread the most as a grieving mother is; “How many children do you have?” It’s not that I don’t know how to...

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