This past Saturday we drove to Louisville for Matt’s last regular season home game. It's a two hour straight shot down 65 and on the way, I listened to Jerry Saltz on the Longform Podcast. He was funny and honest and earnest.
All tagged storytelling
The type of woman that wears lipstick
Whenever we move, I always have this idea that when we get to wherever we are going, I'll turn myself into the type of woman that wears lipstick.
The bathroom reader
It was a normal Sunday in October. The 22nd, to be exact. It was gorgeous out, which is to be expected in October. It's the month of perfect weather. I know adults shouldn't have favorite colors and months and numbers, but mine are as follows: green, 8, October. Evelyn and I both share green and, true to stereotype, Sophie loves pink and Theo's favorite hue is blue…
A seat at the table
My dad and I broke the legs off of the spice covered crabs and dipped the white meat in melted butter, our fingers covered in a mixture of Old Bay, vinegar and said butter. My nose began to itch, just like it does when I'm washing the dishes and I don't have a dry hand to appease the persistent, annoying prickle. My kids were running around somewhere, their bodies encased in a layer of sweat and earth and sugar...
TV Review: "The Leftovers" Series Finale
The season finale of The Leftovers was poetic and simple and beautiful. I have not always loved certain elements of this show, namely the afterlife episodes, but I see now, after it's all over, what I think the creators and writers were trying to convey: that there are some things we just can't know, that we all are fighting ourselves internally to some extent, that conflicting and confusing and dueling desires rage within us all. That that is what it is to be human…
Before the Internet
Before cellphones and the internet, we'd arrange a time for my mom to pick me up from the mall, and I'd be where I said I'd be at the time I said I'd be there. I probably just asked somebody for the time. Or she waited, probably not happy with me. Or I waited, wondering how I was going to get home. Or I'd call collect on the payphone and in the space where I was supposed to only say my name so the recipient knows who's calling, I'd instead say: "come pick me up from the mall!" and then quickly hang up so my dad wouldn't incur any charges. He hated being charged for collect calls or ambulance rides…
Hard Things
I sent my oldest child to school yesterday, like millions of other parents across the world. We walked the brisk walk down to the bus stop, the wind whipped our hair. She asked, again, for me to drive her and Theo to school so she wouldn't have to take the bus. All of the sudden she didn't feel well. I couldn't take her that day, the bus had to happen. As the bus appeared at the end of the street, I could see her fighting back tears. She grabbed for my hand and walked towards the bus, even though she didn't want to get on it. I was telling her that I loved her, that I was so proud of her, that she was being so brave, and then I found myself saying this: we can do hard things…
Outside of Motherhood
I have been trying to run away from it, this motherhood thing. Not in a literal sense. Geez. What kind of a mother do you think I am? I don’t believe I would ever actually leave my children. But that’s not to say I love every minute of it. I don’t.
I guess that's the kind of mother I am…
Women's March in Raleigh
I got out of bed shortly after I heard my kids emerge from their room. I had failed, yet again, to get up before them to write, to run, to read. For the past year almost, I have felt defeated, rarely writing, running inconsistently and never reading as much as I probably should be. One day turns into two and two to four and so on and so forth, and the longer I put it off the scarier and harder it becomes. But as I heard my seven year old begin her work on her poster, which she decided would read: "Stand for what's right, even if you're standing alone," I suddenly found a little bit of motivation I didn't previously have…
Silver Linings
My oldest daughter loves to tell us that she is brown—she takes a lot of pride in the fact that she is half of her father, who is British and Afro-Caribbean, his biological father being full Jamaican. His biological mother was a red head, and I can sometimes see a stray auburn hair amidst his tight curls. My girls get their beautiful and often commented on curls from him, while my son has my hair…