Tiara Me Sue

Thanks to an online community sharing group, I am now the proud owner of a breadbox. I’ve wanted one for a long time; every single time I buy bread and am forced to make that decision whether or not to put it in the refrigerator. Do I know how soon I will use it? If I leave it out, will it go stale? Is it too humid to leave it out? I hate putting bread in the fridge (it doesn’t stay nice and soft), but what I hate more is having to throw away stale or moldy bread that I’ve left out on the countertop because I didn’t use it soon enough. Every time I have this conversation with myself, I think of Grandma. Grandma Josie had a breadbox. Grandma’s bread was always fresh. I want a breadbox. Of course, Grandma pretty much always bought her bread fresh from the bakery daily – but even the ‘leftover’ bread was still good. Because she had a breadbox. My former mother-in-law had a breadbox, too. Coincidentally, her name was Josie, too. She, too, was a tiny little Italian woman who bough...

40 Years in April It was another April, years ago  - less than the years it would take to decide if something will matter later (if time really does exist) that time, that April I was offered forty years - forgetting time is an illusion, a moment … a whim as was that promise April in New England is the same each year the promise of May flowers is April’s illusion; a reality that brings out the fool in all of us as the native, I believe in April rendering me the fool having learned the gift of those forty years like Spring, was only to last a moment a moment that springs up through the green in the snow and then’s washed away each year by April’s cold showers When April returns foolish illusions spring forth once more with the promise of May   - may it be that wonderful again.

Mik Everett nailed it. She wrote a blog about falling in love with a writer and what happens when a writer falls in love with you.  (Check Snopes. This was not Tupac, Drake or Mustafa The Poet.) What a person who falls in love with a writer has to put up with is funny to me, especially knowing my own idiosyncrasies and what I'm capable of. When we writers fall in love with you, you have to put up with even more from us, because we strive to be creative in showing our love and we try just as hard to be creative when we are not (I'm almost sorry for that part). It isn't just about romantic love relationships, though. It happens in love, friendship, and every variation of connection in between. When you affect us in any way, you put the metaphorical ink in the pen. We each touch the lives of everyone around us. Whether we know it or not, we all leave a kind of residual fingerprint behind on everyone we come in contact with. The contact could have been as brief a...

Learning to walk is the greatest life metaphor. Stand up, take baby steps, practice, fall down, get back up again, go, run. We have created and preached so many different variations of this metaphor - and the only time we actually meant it to its fullest definition was when we physically taught our children to walk. Teaching our children to walk is the only thing we have actually taught them directly and purely – separate from our beliefs and prejudices, with actual honest support and enthusiasm. It is also the only time we do not judge them for being children. Let’s relive the experience: The baby that has been lying down since the beginning of its life, dependent on others for physical support and getting from here to there, is now attempting to do these actions on his own. She begins to consciously and deliberately roll over, with each new movement showing her what she is beginning to have control over. His newly discovered arm strength allows him to push his body upward from t...

I’m a professional chauffeur. Today I had to pick up a young girl from her school to bring her home. The school is not your typical school building on its own property; it shares a parking lot with a few other businesses, so pickups need to be structured. Basically, all the parents and guardians wait in line in their cars until they get to the front of the line and their child gets called to the car.  The pickup cars are in two lines, with two rows of parked cars between them. I am in my car in the right line, which is considered the first line because it’s closest to the building. While I’m waiting, I notice a man from the left line, parallel to me (with two parked cars between us) jump out of his car and run up to the front of his line. I see what looks familiar to me: two parents show up for one kid, or a child/parent swap. I looked in front of me and moved my car up when the car in front of me moved forward, then looked over at the swap – and realized I had completely mi...

Are you ready for the next leg of the journey? The train’s going to be leaving soon. The same direction – with different stops along the way. New faces getting on; familiar faces getting off. That’s what this is, this new year coming. Another ending, another beginning. It’s the same, and it’s different. It’s a circle; whether we realize it or not, we end up back where we started. The idea of celebrating the New Year is the same as celebrating a birthday, with the New Year being the collective birthday and all of us celebrating it together. The Earth is in a certain position (the beginning) and circles around the sun until it returns to that same position (the end). The beginning and the end are the same . Every end is a beginning, and every beginning an end. Proof that life is all about the journey. We all do know this; the concept pops ups in movies and song all the time – but do we really understand it? More to the point: do we really believe it? Our lives are our cr...

When we are very young, our first friends are determined by geography and our parents. After we start figuring things out on our own, we gravitate towards certain ‘favorites’ and even later we begin to choose. I am one of the lucky ones, because those that were chosen for me back then are still the ones I choose now. Chosen for me. I like that. I met Michael first – but I don’t remember ever not knowing him. Our parents were high school friends that stayed close afterwards. He was born a month before me and we were always together. We have pictures of us taking baths together.  Even when our parents moved out of the city they moved to the same neighborhood, three houses apart – even closer than they had lived before. Michael is as much a part of me as … well, me . That move to the new neighborhood just before our 7 th birthdays brought me to Donna, my first best girlfriend. The three of us were always together. It was a great neighborhood; those were great years. ...