There was something magical – and fragile – about the tissue papers on which we corresponded (marked PAR AVION) and the interminable weeks between each letter Post World War II the world was trying to rebuild, heal we (Yukiko and I) were part of that process – two children: one Japanese, one American Our shared…
No sun squeezed through the blinds this morning, instead grey skies filled the transom windows dampness settled on the deck rain set in mid-morning – it would be a muted, routine day Morning email changed things when the message arrived I waited to share whatever awaited hoping one click would provide answers bring closure He…
Unable to reconcile a relative of the onion growing among grape vines…
Stepping across the threshold leaving one reality, embracing another – if only for a few moments Inside a fan mutely, slowly bathes the room in a slight breeze long, slender blades dip (ever so slightly) as if to caress my husband resting in the bed below were it not for the four posters standing sentry…
We never wanted two cats and a dog the white picket fence and the station wagon The world waited just over the horizon Odd isn’t it how our fondest memories are of kids and dogs two old cats rule we no longer need yet have two station wagons all a part of creating a place…
Where is the nutcracker who stands sentry by the front door? or tiny train going round and round looking for Christmas? small fairy sled that’s carried generations of rosy cheeked babes sits in an upstairs corner – waiting. the cats wait too – lazing in a slice of winter sun. Now grown children pop chocolates…
You are too gracious and elegant to ask I know that but simply put, we are dog people for forty years and more yes, yes there was the occasional unwilling kitten dragged home That night – you were the slimmest of shadows weaving among us in the mist neighbors banded together at nightfall laughing with…
How shall we celebrate? with eggnog. tree. (doubt there’ll be snow) family, friends. cookies. candles. stack lots of firewood. (oh no. cutter packed) Beth – gingerbread men duty. festival of nine lessons and carols. advent calendar. packed. (will anyone notice) order turkey (vegetarian too) somehow it falls into place. I’m so glad you Always put…
We lay there – I, draped along the sofa while she curls herself inside the bend of my legs They, by contrast, stand sentry seated side by side in the large chair near the fireplace poised. ready Over and over we replay this scene – Coco and me, Annie and my husband They inevitably glance…
Nights you’d prowl the house in stark contrast to days of nursing/moving/coaxing Did you slip away, certain your baby was asleep – forgetting she was an only child soon to miss the warmth of your body? or was it a need from deep inside to have some part of each day silently to yourself? It…
We rootless, searching whisper prayers of Christmas hopes silently, snow falls and there is Peace Firstborn, checking lights shares the magic of Christmas with his patient easy smile Bear proudly announces “I’ve bought all my presents!” while butterfly daughter, busy ‘making’ knows Santa really does exist Dad seeks refuge in the garage listens to laughter –…