My Japanese Handkerchief Masks
by Wendy Dodek During this pandemic my thoughts turn to Japan, a country where masks are part of daily…
April 12, 2021by Wendy Dodek During this pandemic my thoughts turn to Japan, a country where masks are part of daily…
April 12, 2021Beyond the “N-word,” I knew what the caller meant by calling my father “boy.” My six-foot-five-inch father was no boy. He was big and he could be pretty scary.
April 11, 2021A car crash, an OD, a cancer diagnosis, and before you know it your heart is filled with dead people elbowing for space. My heart is getting crowded.
April 9, 2021Gina doesn’t flinch when she tells us of the affair that reawakened her sexually while sounding the death knell for two marriages, the regrets she has as a parent, as a daughter.
April 8, 2021Coffee beans should be oily, fragrant, decadent. And the morning should be wide open and roomy to enjoy all of those sips.
April 5, 2021I like to think I didn’t let him cry for long. That I recovered my sense of proportion, abandoning whatever had seemed important to insist upon a few minutes ago.
April 4, 2021When he was a freshman in high school he read online that eating an apple every morning had caffeinated qualities. That was probably bullshit but he’d gotten into a huge habit of eating apples every morning ever since.
April 2, 2021The world goes violently sideways, blurring and jerking as the horse bucks and convulses. I fly off, hit my head and elbow and land on my back. I become acutely aware that I’m not wearing a helmet.
March 31, 2021Only after four days of labor and absolute exhaustion did I finally consent to the surgery that was likely inevitable from the beginning.
March 29, 2021After the face-down part of this imaginary massage, my young client — let’s call him Robert Aaron Long — turns face-up. He takes my wrist and nudges it downwards before I quickly pull away.
March 28, 2021A third groundskeeper plunged the shovel into the mound of dirt. The rabbi recited the Kaddish, but Rachel could only hear the ringing of her mother’s shrill voice, “I told you not to put your father on top of me, I get claustrophobic.”
March 26, 2021I felt like I was juggling swords on a seesaw. As long as I stayed centered, nothing dropped. But the summer weather was my ballast, and everything changed when the fires arrived in Northern California.
March 24, 2021A four-way stop is like a conversation. It is an exchange that requires awareness and patience and the desire to take an interest in the lives of your fellow human.
March 22, 2021It’s a chilly first night of Autumn, and she’s sitting on the bench hidden behind the playscape, where no one has to watch her cry.
March 19, 2021