My mom was admiring my son’s artwork. My son was admitting that some of his drawings were OK, though many were bad. My mom said, “Well, practice makes perfect.” My son said, “Eh. That’s not my style.”
My 12-year-old daughter, W., was preparing to brush her teeth and reflecting on how she’s changed over the past year. She said, “I’m about 10% more mature and 20% more gay.” The other day, W. was telling my mother the story of the Torah portion she’s studying for her bat mitzvah. When she finished, my […]
An entry in my son’s April journal, a regular writing exercise in his second grade classroom: What I saw was not normal. It had a cat’s head and a wolf’s snout. It had monkey fur too. But whatever I saw I want it.
At the aforementioned birthday celebration, my son and his group of friends found graffiti on a wall behind a tall hedge in a park. They decided that it was the key to a mystery, which they spent the next 30 minutes trying to solve. It said: Love stories may save me.
My daughter asked to have a spider removed from her room. When we didn’t respond quickly enough, she said, in a raised voice, “Regarding the aforementioned spider, please remove it!” My son and a few friends were celebrating his 8th birthday. They had finished one game and were considering what to do next. One of […]
Late March– ahead, on the black street– a ghost of snow
In the second-grade hallway of my son’s school, saw worksheets by students responding to the prompt: “I will take concrete steps to reach my goal of:” A sample of the responses: Getting a horse Being a chemist Seeing my dad Being a nanny Getting to the major league Becoming a YouTuber
In the checkout line at the Hannaford, misread “Brunch for a Coward” on the cover of a food magazine, and now I know the title of the reality series I will produce.
Snow in the late February yard is brighter at dusk
The smartest thing I did on Tuesday was read poems by Tomas Tranströmer. It was an accident that kept me breathing. The smartest thing I did this morning was read poems by Jean Valentine. Here’s one: Friend Friend I need your hand every morning but anger and beauty and hope these roses make […]