To the Jennys and Jasons and All Who Chase Joy

Photo: Brenda Anderson, Creative Commons, cc license Dear Jenny, You would have laughed this afternoon, and I think some did. With a bundle of purple lilacs in one hand and a bulky walkman cassette player in the other, I awkwardly flipped open the machine to turn my tape over. Slipping around under the black walkman…

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The Ambushing Joy of No Cosmic Carnival Bell

Photo: Thomas Totz, Creative Commons cc license Banana muffins sheen from melted butter and I’m on my fourth one. Hot from the oven, they steam when opened and glisten moist on a hot muggy May afternoon. A friend has just left, our tea cups and dishes still line the counter. This afternoon, listening to my…

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To the Ugly and Small-God-Praying Folk Like Me

Photo: M. H. Anbinder, Creative Commons, cc license Every day he went to the Gate Beautiful. And I don’t know if he felt beautiful, but I know that he pulled his withered legs closer to him on the braided mat and he stared out. At the passing people who didn’t see him, at the passing…

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In the Aftermath of Mach Two Speed

Photo: Adikos, Creative Common, cc license  “Learn from my mistakes,” she wrote vulnerably. “I wish someone had shared this with me years ago.” I dished up a slice of sour cream lemon pie and poured the last marginally-hot dregs of coffee into my yellow and brown striped mug. Setting them beside the Ipad screenshot of…

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The Tattoo Every Parent Needs

Photo: Meena Kadri, Creative Commons, cc license Photo: Yulya Balaeva, Creative Commons, cc license She’s got it tattooed right up her arm, this mom friend I know. You can see it curving up through rust-colored vines. And I think of it this morning as I plunge hands into scalding hot dish water, and slide in…

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Can You Picture When It Switched For You?

 I remember when it switched. You had always been my comfort-Mom, the one I called upstairs late at night when my middle school friends and I had scared ourselves with sleepover ghost stories. Sara’s tales of a come-alive puppet proved too much for us that summer, and suddenly my five-foot tall rag doll Jenny was…

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You Are Sooo Close

Photo Credit: Benson Kua, Creative Commons, cc license A lovely foreign-accented dark-haired woman with pale complexion and red lipstick clips words with a heavy tongue beside me, while an American businessman converses with her. They mention churches, the Basilica, nieces dancing in Hopkins, and a local pontoon party. I’ve finished my Sunday School lesson outline…

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