the story of a playwright
We’re not great gift givers. When it’s my birthday, I tell D exactly what I want. And I ask him to go get it. At some point during this conversation, whether over weeks or a few minutes, we argue about it. D doesn’t like to be told what to get for me, but my goal […]
Read More We’re not great gift givers.That James Taylor song he wrote for his baby nephew, I sang it to my son the other night at bedtime. I’d heard the song on line at the grocery store, and had tried not to get choked up as I laid my items on the conveyor belt. At bedtime I looked up the lyrics […]
Read More Stockbridge to BostonWashing up quick between courses on Christmas Eve. A voice by my side, my nearly 7 year old son, asking: 5 waters please, mommy. First thought: I’m out here washing up and being asked for something? Second thought: Who does he think he is making demands? Almost give a smirk, almost say: Do I look […]
Read More 5 Waters Please, MommyAn open letter to the lovely people who showed us a perfectly delightful small home on their vast acreage somewhere in the foothills upstate somewhere. Dear John and Leslie, When we saw the ad for the two bedroom secluded house in the woods on craigslist, we planned a day around going to check it out. […]
Read More We didn’t take your house, we stayed in BrooklynDuring a tropical storm warning this past weekend I went through boxes of old photos with my mom. I found this great picture story from Christmas 1983, when I was in 2nd grade.
Read More Picture Story 1983My Grandmother died last week, so I sat down to remember her.
Read More Remembering my Grandmother Anne