Sometimes Bit by Bit is Best

I completed my graduate thesis last week – a crowning achievement (and the reason for my online absence). Readers know that I’ll earn my MFA in Creative Nonfiction from Goucher College this summer. As it happens, my thesis is the entire draft of Both Sides Now, my memoir. Lucky me. I didn’t have to finish the book, but I needed to. I needed to prove to myself that I could write my story, line by line, page after page, part by part, until I had accomplished the following: getting it all down on paper, selecting the moments and shaping it so that the experience could be shared. In this way the written word allows others to reflect upon their own stories of loss and renewal.


Batman, Kings and Superheroes

Have you heard about how police stopped Batman in Silver Spring, Md. late last month? That’s right. Batman. They pulled him over because his license plate featured only the Batman symbol, no numbers. He was driving a black Lamborghini and dressed in full black and yellow leather Batman attire. “Send me Robin,” the police officer is reported to have said over the radio.



Many of us are feeling the thaw of winter and the early heat of spring. It’s a glorious time of year, albeit a charged one. Growth spurts, spring cleaning, bikes that need maintenance, gardens that need pruning, multiple school projects, the season of birthdays. And for basketball fans…March Madness, NBA trades and the upcoming playoffs and finals. Can you feel the energy?


Goosey Events and Trees That Smile

What do you make of the following unrelated events?

My 10-year-old daughter wakes up with a fever and hacking cough. Even she knows she’s sick, and yet she demands she go to school. She bawls. She whines. She throws her body on the sofa. “I have to go to school.” Cough. Cough. “You don’t understand, I HAVE to go to school!”



It’s 3:58 a.m. and I wake in a startled state.

Did I forget the day? How could I let this slip?

I’m not thinking clearly at this ungodly hour so I begin to track back. He died in February, toward the end of the month. Last Tuesday was Valentine’s Day. I count the days that follow on my fingers until I land on today, February 20.

I am so relieved because I have not missed the day my first husband, Brett, died. It’s tomorrow, February 21, which is the eight-year anniversary.


Surprise! You’ve Been Duped

Scene: 8:30 p.m. The house is silent, kitchen wiped clean. I want to hug the new teenage babysitter.  “Yes, they did everything they were supposed to do, they’re asleep now.”

“So they read aloud for ten minutes and then another fifteen minutes on their own? And Rebecca took the Airborne and Casey trained on his stationary bike?”


A Forgotten Watch Is a Timeless Gift

I am moving slowly today, lethargic and dreary as the snow appears on my back porch.

Maybe it’s because I forgot to wear my watch. I’m out and about for two hours on this snowy Tuesday before I realize my mistake.  And when I see my naked wrist, I am not the least bit fazed, which is unusual for me since I’m usually driven by time.

Right now I hear my friend David’s voice in my ear saying, “there are no coincidences.” David founded Kabbalah Experience, and I studied with him for a few years. Lately I’ve been examining old notes for my memoir, and wouldn’t you know I’ve stumbled upon whole pages about time: