Browse Topics

To The Beach

One time for no reason at all my kid brother and I decided to ride our bicycles from our small brick house all the way to Jones Beach. We got maps out of the family car and pored over them and concluded that it was about four miles to the shore. He was twelve and I was thirteen.

Making Ends Meet

Being rootless, hunting without a license, choosing to stay

Phys Ed

Recently my twelve-year-old son, Darius, matter-of-factly informed me that he was playing football in the fall.

“No, you aren’t,” I said.

A Boy

Seven years ago, when Tytia Habing first became pregnant, she secretly hoped for a girl. She got a boy instead, and ever since, she says, her life has been “filled with dirt, broken toys, shoes full of sand, sticks, scraped knees, cut-up cardboard boxes, mud, toy guns, dinky cars, and a never-ending sense of amazement at this foreign little creature I brought into the world.”

Creature Comforts

Taking care of my aging parents is the right thing to do. I don’t regret the decision. But when I came here in 2010, I never imagined that I’d have to stay nearly five years. I’m afraid that, on my mother’s ninety-seventh birthday, I’ll be saying that I never imagined I’d have to stay seven years.

When No One Is Watching

I’ve come to love this island. Hawaii has mostly been subdued by human habitation, but there are still pockets of wilderness, like this one. A trail from our land leads to where I’m sitting on a tablecloth beside the stream with my laptop. When I look at my computer screen, I see my reflection, in which my bald head is hidden by a scarf. I’ve had no hair for six months now, a constant reminder that I have breast cancer.

Breasts

Breast-feeding, skinny-dipping, and Christmas shopping