Sitting in the surgical room, waiting for a minor outpatient procedure, I try to redirect my sense of dread by listening to the nurses chatting: “The knees, they’re the most unforgiving body part.” “How about the uterus? The uterus is a vindictive organ. You mess with it and it’s going to fight back.” Immediately I … Continue reading Happy place
Last year on this day, I wrote about being St. Patrick’s granddaughter. My grandfather, born in 1906 in the far reaches of Beaufort County, North Carolina, was named Columbus St. Patrick. (Read the post if you like). You’d think our family would be Catholic, celebrating this day with the best of them, but we aren’t … Continue reading Happy St. Patrick’s
I was sixteen years old the first time I went to New York City—that’s the same age, according to his own writing, that St. Patrick was kidnapped in Britain and carried to slavery in Ireland. I didn’t know this fact at the time. I arrived in the city that long-ago day with my high school … Continue reading In the name of St. Patrick
From the pen—um, keyboard, rather—of a favorite guest paw-thor who has his own category here on Lit Bits and Pieces… Dear, Dear Readers, It has been far too long since we last communed. So much has changed. Where to begin? Nearly one year ago, my Him ushered Me to a new home with new—how shall … Continue reading How to find peace (Henry writes)
During the month-long Slice of Life Story Challenge on Two Writing Teachers, fellow Slicer Leigh Anne Eck decided to host a virtual Spring Fling party. The price of attending: Three of your best self-care tips for enduring this time of sequestering (my word of choice, as I am already weary of “social distance” and “quarantine,” … Continue reading Self-care offering
My favorite teaching moments are those when classroom teachers have invited me in to model the writing process. This occurs a lot less than it used to, as writing workshop in my district has been replaced by a curriculum with embedded writing. I’ve been remembering those moments lately. I miss walking in with a list … Continue reading The kitten’s song
A good dog is one of life’s greatest gifts. Today’s post is dedicated to Rin, my husband’s childhood pet. Dear Boy, It is late. I am thinking about you sleeping upstairs. I wish I could get up there like I used to; I feel I should be near you tonight. But I content myself with … Continue reading Dear Boy
Memoir is probably my favorite kind of writing. It’s like small moments on steroids. When I write myself back into childhood, scenes, conversations, little forgotten details are pumped full of meaning, for I have the advantage of understanding so much more than I did then . . . This event occurred when I was seven … Continue reading Spittin’ image
New Year’s Eve. The wind gusts in the night beyond the bedroom window. I sit at my scarred old vanity, watching a tiny hand-me-down television. I am fifteen, this room is my inner sanctum, so I am surprised when Daddy brings me a slice of frozen pizza that Mom heated up for a late … Continue reading From ashes of auld lang syne
I love the two old mules who live down the road and around the bend from me. They do not know this, of course. They don’t know me at all. They do not know how they stir my soul when I drive by their pasture, or how the sight of them makes me feel like … Continue reading Muleogy
