When my father sold the family home after her death I found the rusty trowel in the garage, duga few from the front yard and dropped them into a plastic bag. We lived on Willow Drive back then and when I openly wished for a willow tree for the front yard I only heard...
Il y a longtemps, ma mère biologique racontait une histoire-énigme : « Pierre avait un couteau. La lame a cassé, alors il a changé la lame. Le manche a cassé, alors il a changé le manche. Tout a été remplacé. Est-ce toujours le couteau de Pierre ? » J’étais...
I was left-handed and wrote letters mirror image until my dad shamed me about that, then I turned them around, of course, to please him.Letters seemed to be the first experience where Left or Right mattered.I was given special scissors by my dadscissors...
I feel better having written this! Feel some joy! Some triumph over all that adversity! It is over with, and I will NEVER tolerate it again!!! Deserted, rejected, and dumped. Betrayed, shunned, and discarded. Ostracized, scorned, and...
From where I’m standing, hidden in a thicket of Pawpaw trees, he can’t see me. He’s walking towards me; unaware he’s being watched. He’s carrying a .22-caliber rifle, and he’s scanning the trees. He’s after squirrels. It’s late October 1939, and he turned 9...
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