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Tag Archives: my mother
Summer is upon us. It’s been cool and foggy here at the coast, burning off by afternoon, daylight’s glare fading gradually until it all turns into magic, the broad white lingering sky that comes between sunset and darkness at this … Continue reading
The weather was a steady curtain of mist and drizzle interspersed with flashes of sunlight. And rainbows. Rainbows, plural, yes. I had hitched a ride with Monte to the beach, and while he surfed, I walked home. The tide was low, … Continue reading
I’m gradually going through the contents of The Trunk of Pain in the garage, a task I’ve been postponing for decades. (And let me tell you, it takes fortitude!) Monte found me sitting there sobbing the other morning, having come … Continue reading
Yesterday I faced the difficult task of clearing out my mother’s room. Her familiar clothes were hanging in the closet, and I knew which were her favorites and the provenance of each. The drawers were brimming with beads and broken watches, eyeglasses … Continue reading
I am on a bridge from one part of my life to the next. I don’t even know all the ways in which things will seem different when I return, but they surely will. Until then, I am in exile, and … Continue reading
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) Esther Bitensky Carbone April 25, 1923 – January 4, 2015