Category Archives: writing

J is for June and July

My birthday is the first day of June, the first day of what you might as well call summer, so what if it’s technically late spring, school is out or almost out, everything is green, you can wear shorts and … Continue reading

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I is for Isabella

(appropriate because today is sibling day, according to Facebook) Isabella had me in her thrall for the first six years of my life, maybe longer.  I was honored when she allowed me in her presence.  My vision of us as … Continue reading

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FGH Pandemic

F is for Fuck it G is for God make it stop H is for when the Hell will this be over? Early in the shelter at home phase I had two homes and was busily packing up one and … Continue reading

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E is for Eliza

My inveterate journal keeping seems to have been passed down to my younger daughter.  In our recent move, I sorted through lots of stuff (SO MUCH STUFF) and found many pieces of art and writing by my children.  My favorite … Continue reading

Posted in creative nonfiction, Family, motherhood, writing | 2 Comments

C is for Canoe

Star   In a canoe at night my grown-up daughter takes the stern her J-stroke confident.   In the middle we rest our paddles. The quiet fills with crickets and the small lapping of waves.   We crane at the … Continue reading

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B2 Backwards

The theme of this month’s blogging challenge is Backwards and Forwards, because I like to look back and make sense of things, and I want to push myself to look ahead with hope instead of dread.  Hard to do in … Continue reading

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B1 Alice Backwards

Excerpt from my memoir Look Her in the Eye I am sitting at my typewriter in an empty theatre, on the edge of the playing area.  This building was once a gymnasium, and I can barely see the ceiling, the … Continue reading

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A is for Alice

I turned 60 last year, 10 months ago in fact, to the day in fact, but I am still in shock.  Zooming more often makes me see that I have the face of an older version of the Alice I … Continue reading

Posted in Adolescence, Being an artist, Childhood, creative nonfiction, Memoir, writing | 5 Comments

Beavertail

At the bottom of Conanicut Island in Narragansett Bay, at the southern end of the village of Jamestown, is a lighthouse on a spit of land with a funny shape.  It must have been named after aerial mapping came into … Continue reading

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A my name is

Alice is old fashioned.  None of the girls in my school were named Alice, though we did have a family friend with an Alice, six years older than me.  Her sister was Emily, and my mother told me they had … Continue reading

Posted in creative nonfiction, Uncategorized, writing | 6 Comments