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Do we ever leave the playground?

This photograph my mother took symbolizes my mood from over the last few days. If your life right now could be captured on a playground, what would we see? You swinging high or thudding to the ground on the teeter-totter? Dangling from the monkey bars? Zipping down the slide? Bawling over a skinned knee? Playing … Continue reading

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Hush. Therapy in session.

For a while now I’ve been dragging out stories from the past to wrap them around some writing idea. Recently I’ve begun to wonder, however, if I’m not too stuck back there, feelings that should be over and done still right under the surface. What’s it mean to be over something anyway? Should writing be … Continue reading

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This is just to say

I read this article about memoirs and several comments there have stuck with me. And so… This is just to say I have finished the stories that were in my head and which you were probably reading for entertainment. Sorry. They were fun. So good for me. And so draining. Continue reading

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Why are you calling?

I wait until the house is empty because I don’t want anyone to hear what I’m going to say. I sit at the dining room table and open the address book to the letter A. It takes me a few minutes to dial the first number even though I’ve want to finish the book before … Continue reading

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Experienced Enough for This

Change came in a tiny box. I registered for the SAT and somewhere on the paper was a box to order a book of colleges and universities. Sure that I was destined for community college, I got out my lunch money that I hadn’t spent on lunches and ordered a copy. The massive book arrived … Continue reading

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A Young Woman at a Wedding

The possibilities are endless. Right? 1. A young woman, an aspiring writer, goes to her friend’s wedding. She has a nice time. She goes home. 2. A young woman, an aspiring writer, goes to her friend’s wedding. She gets drunk, makes a pass at a groomsman and is rebuffed. She goes home and cries herself … Continue reading

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What is in a name?

“That’s not the name I wanted,” my mom told me. “We fought about it. Your father won.” They were either going to name me after her and my father’s mother or after my dad and my mother’s mother. My dad wanted the former–Marta Irina. My mother the latter–Lara Margaret. “If you’d been called Lara, it … Continue reading