Frittatas
In the morning, I made two, seven eggs in each. My husband came into the kitchen just as I was whisking the second batch, and he told me that one of the buffy hens had gotten herself on top of the little black and white, that the two of them …
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The Organ
We’re driving to Newburg for a carburetor part, my father quiet as usual. I’m thankful to get out of the house. My mother, in her threadbare nightgown and worn pink toenails, shoving the vacuum around, grumbling about being a martyr, while the four of us kids deep in sofa …
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How To Get Dressed
cw: anxiety and sensory dysregulation Before you became a dress hanging in E’s closet, you were born on a conveyor belt. You watched identical kin as they disappeared down the line and wondered how they came to be. They were you, but not. Needles poked your neck, round and round, …
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Reduce, Recycle, Reuse
An elderly Vietnamese man goes through our trash daily. No gloves, no concerns. He walks up our driveway, opens the lid of the big, blue recycling bin, and makes me feel bad for discarding what is valuable. I’ve seen him on and off over the five years since we …
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Sadness, Followed by Anger
Grief This is a picture of a picture of a family in the waiting room perched on plastic chairs just inside the sliding doors. They will not answer because you do not call their names. You watch them, frozen in this slice of time: phones to ears, to tell …
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Holes of Blue
I wake from anesthesia with a smattering of gray holes blurring the vision in my left eye. Since I’m in a hospital for a procedure on my spine—nowhere close to my eyeballs—I panic, my breaths shallow and rapid. I can’t see, I plead to the nurse fiddling with my …
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Cruelty at Recess
We joined hands and sang “Ring Around the Fatso” to the tune of “Ring Around the Rosie.” We were fourth graders, and that’s what we did that autumn day at recess. The student in the center, a boy I’ll call Joseph, smiled at first, and as we circled …
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The Name Dropper
While having a famous father-in-law is not literally the least interesting thing about me, most days it hovers suspiciously close to that designation. Maybe that’s the reason I try to keep it on the DL whenever possible. No one would ever know were it not for my wife’s last …
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On the Variations
1. The first time I played Bach on the piano, age eight or nine, I was startled to find how much it soothed me. Soon, I couldn’t bear the stress of my house without the immediate feedback of the piano keys, the press of fingers, the requirement to attend …
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