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My Chair

The reading chair, the smiley chair, the saddle chair

Doctors

A misdiagnosis; a long, wet kiss; a ring from the garden

The Hunt And The Kill

I went on hearing the term now and then, but I didn’t bother myself much about screwing until somebody said that Barry had screwed Maria in the catwalk, a narrow, fenced walkway overgrown with bushes. I pictured a yellow-handled screwdriver and decided that Barry must have fixed something for her: her skateboard, maybe. Barry was three years older than me and Maria was a year older and pretty.

The Bottoms Of Her Feet Were Pink

My mother wasn’t from the cooks. Her measuring cups were chipped, her pots dented, her pans blackened and bruised. She used the bottom of her shirt as a potholder. When she burned or cut herself, she’d give a yelp, but never put on a band-aid. She was always in a hurry.

Generosity

A spare tire, a Shirley Temple doll, a bruise in the unmistakable shape of a hand

My Father Walked With Me In The Woods

The Physics Of Suspension

When she finished saying she was sorry, I hung up without a word and stood before the phone, blushing. The wooden earrings my mother had given me a few years before burned in my earlobes. Hadn’t I just spoken to her the night before? No, the week before. But she and my father were still there, in California, and they were all right. I trusted them to be there always, like gravity, or paychecks.

The Living End

What I remember most about Sarah Collins is her face pressed up against the back window of the El Camino as the car sped down our street. A big hand was reaching over her forehead, trying to pry her from the glass. On the middle finger was a silver ring that caught a ray of sunlight. I squinted from the glare, and the car was gone.

The Polish Language

A faint murmur weaves its way through my dreams, like a radio turned down low. It’s my mother’s voice, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. Sometimes, in the moment just before I wake, I hear her more clearly — urgent, insistent, warning.

Euphemism

Like the time I was in fourth grade and my hair / reached all the way down to my butt and my mother / said, “Let’s get a trim,” and my cousin Kathy cut / my hair all the way up to my chin, and when my / friend Carol laughed at my “cut” I said it was a / “trim” and she shut up.