memories
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lift what you can
My mother taught me to shovel snowthe way I imaginesome mothers teach prayer –patient, shoulder to shoulder. She’d come home from a long day,and say: Come on, let’s go.Out into the dark we went,into the hush of the world,the night itself… Continue reading
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new year’s eve 1975
She slipped the deep blue coat from the hanger.The fur collar brushed her cheek,a brief vanishing softness. I watched from my doorway,a child awake when I shouldn’t have been,drawn by the thin slice of light— a path to my mother.… Continue reading
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what it will be
Whenever life got hard, Mom would often say, “it will be what it will be.” I assumed that she meant that things would turn out as they should — good or bad — and she would deal with it either… Continue reading
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the only one
Tucked away in the corner of a little Italian place that, after the sun went down, was dim like a mine shaft and just as cold, we sat discussing the living we’ve done over the last 30 years. The two… Continue reading