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Torn Pages
I tell people that I am an open book, but a book that needs translating, because it’s easier than explaining why the ink has run and the pages are torn. I just don’t let them look. “The book is open…” I say “But avert your eyes.” They won’t understand. I won’t know how to tell…
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Making Pasta With Morrissey
This is such an old story, so predictable, well trodden boards, and all that, but I gather everyone I know and I tell it again anyway, because my heart feels like she has never been heard. I am currently attempting to live in the moment. I am currently attempting to “have fun” and enjoy being…
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My Two Fathers Are Watching
He towered over the troubled child, virtuous, virgin of hope, a child, ripped from a child herself. Messy when she fingerpaints, messy when she scribbled words that would one day become whole worlds, messy when she tried to climb the kitchen cabinets for biscuits before dinner, his very own Macarena. He had such hope for…
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The Girl’s Madness – Part One
I meet the eyes of my mother less and less, because of my envy, that I could never get past, and the fear that I will pass the point of being her pride and joy, disappearing into her disappointment. My body is a clam that longs for a pearl, passed over by the unkind sea,…
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Mary’s Boy Came Home
You came home, long hair billowing in the spring winds, sunlight shining through the open door as the sea of your mother’s tears finally parted and peace returned to her pillow. She lived another lifetime in the time you were gone, her eyes were weary but her arms were welcoming, and you fit so neatly…
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Sincerely, Jennifer x 