Before 2016, much of my car-time involved taking a girl or two to an activity. For me relaxing in the car means talking about whatever’s on my mind. Or her mind, or whomever else’s mind. My nest is empty; no one’s in my car. But my musing doesn’t quit just because of that. So now you’re the one “Driving With Daughters!”
It is definitely true that imagination can be most difficult in our darkest moments. The numbness of despair that Brueggemann describes is the moment of greatest peril for imagination as our minds attempt to close in on themselves for protection. When the pain is so great, our only escape is to feel nothing, rather than […]
I only made my bed when I was at my Ganmommy’s, growing up. My mom, pragmatic in all sorts of interesting ways, didn’t see bed-making as mission-critical — and really only had me tackle room-tidying when the floor became impassable. I had my own room and my own bed, so the only person affected (mostly!) […]
The new microwave at The House* has its turntable at my eye level. It’s awkward for me, who is currently the shortest person in the house, especially since the door opens downward, like a standard oven door. But that’s neither here nor there right now… …what is here and was there is me, at breakfast, […]
I had a really gross dream last night. When, after waking, I looked up the images in my dream-symbol reference, they were all about unwelcome emotions getting bottled up and spilling over. And here I thought I was grief-ing adequately-! I mean, I sit with my hurt heart rather than immediately reaching for a book […]
My mom died on on my fourth day of classes in my new program at my new school. Died as I was stepping into this new adventure, maybe even new life, that she wanted for me… not necessarily as a theologian, but as an academic — someone who researches and explains things for a living. […]
My mom died September 1st, 2022. She was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer not even two months before. On September 1st, I’d just moved to a new city. Just started a one-year graduate fellowship at a new school. I spent my first days of class quietly pausing by each new-to-me professor: “My mom has […]
In Remembrance of Things Past, Proust purportedly dissolves into long textual ecstasy — or is it deep nostalgia? — after smelling a particular kind of cookie. I’m doing that thing I hate, a loose citation that’s probably only folk-memory and is otherwise completely inaccurate. I suspect my alternative is to dive head-first into tracking it […]
— by Kimbol, age 6 Have you ever been in sock feet, sock feet on the lawn?Have you ever been in sock feet, sock feet at dawn? Have you ever been in sock feet, sock feet in your room?Have you ever been in sock feet, sock feet at your doom? ** A swing, a sizable […]
During her (our) Troubles, I remember sitting at one end of our sofa and holding a book, or a sheet of paper with an assignment on it, and patting the open space beside me. I remember that space as on my left, my strong hand, the side my heart is on. I remember inviting A […]
When I was very, very little — probably as soon as I was noticeably taking purposeful action like, say, crawling — my mom would tell me why she was doing what she did. She actually did this across the whole of her day as I was growing up, but she particularly told me why I […]
