Shared history has immense power. I didn’t know how much until my divorce. It wasn’t only my future dreams that vanished with my husband, but the comfort of shared history that had been far more a source of strength for me than I’d realized. We were the same age, so we shared the same jargon, [ Read More ]
I’ve been having an imaginary conversation with my heart lately. Not the physical heart exactly, although I admire its pluck and constancy enormously. But the metaphoric heart of me that loves, not necessarily wisely, but pretty well, and that has taken a lot of hits over the years. It occurred to me one day, while [ Read More ]
You can’t grow up to be a writer of love stories, if you aren’t an incurable romantic. Despite my own history of picking lemons in the Garden of Love – and oxytocin notwithstanding – I’ve found that I need to believe in true love. I have seen it – not often – but enough to [ Read More ]
I wanted to love and be loved forever. I wanted to grow old with the man I loved. Like Yeats with Maude Gonne, we’d love the sorrows of each others’ changing faces, and it wouldn’t matter one whit if we weren’t young and beautiful anymore, because we’d laugh together at the losses and infirmities, and [ Read More ]
“Language instead of tears. Anger instead of pent-up misery. Action and change instead of acceptance and self defeat. A warrior instead of a victim.” —Nellis Wong, Poet, founder, the Women Writers Union I was married for twenty years to a man I loved far too much for far too long. It never, not even for [ Read More ]
By the grace of God and a fast outfield, I find myself the mother of a 21 year old, born so many years after my first two daughters, it might as well be considered a separate lifetime Dakota is perched on the precarious edge of womanhood now, and she’s a deep one, never precipitous in [ Read More ]