Back in Brooklyn, in rising heat and humidity, I reflect on our recent time near the edge of Lake Ontario. A benign accident led us all to the greater Rochester area for G to take a dance intensive. Every day we drove forty minutes from the lake to SUNY Brockport, switched drivers, and I returned … Continue reading By the Shining Waters
teenagers
Finding Movement
I write to find out what I’m thinking. What I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. Joan Didion “You have your words,” G said last summer. She’s right. Most of my writing is silently, unabashedly, purely for me; pen and paper are my best friends. … Continue reading Finding Movement
Poetry: Where have you gone?
Well hello little baby Word less, emotion full How did you become… Our little one Reaching for my hair, my eyes Your arm around my neck Where have you gone? You, too, little girl You who held my hand, Told me stories Wanted me, always Where have you gone? Say, big girl You who grew … Continue reading Poetry: Where have you gone?
Green Lights
Further proving that I am a nut who uses a Magic 8 ball in times of indecision, I am going to share with you that I play a game with myself in which I follow green lights. I think of this in its highest form in San Francisco, when we lived and worked within walking distance … Continue reading Green Lights
Under A Rock
When G was about two and a half, we were up at our building site playing while X was working. She lifted up a large rock and got the shock of her life. Thousands of ants. It looked like the earth was moving. Poor kid, it took her many moons to process the experience. She … Continue reading Under A Rock
Acts of Generosity
After George Michael died, many sources revealed his bountiful charitable giving; the only condition for much of his generosity was anonymity. Articles also mentioned his struggle with depression. I read aloud some examples of his philanthropy and was surprised to see G get really upset. “He didn’t want people to know about it. Why can’t … Continue reading Acts of Generosity
There is a box…
A flower and not a flower; Of mist and yet not of mist; At midnight he was there; He went as daylight shone. He came, and for a little while Was like a dream of spring. And then, As morning clouds that vanish traceless, He was gone. - Po Chü There is a box in … Continue reading There is a box…
Where I End & She Begins 