On a Street in Whiteville

To pick up where I ended in my last post, it happened a block from our house. Maggie was walking our dog down the sidewalk. A man in a  pickup backed down his driveway without paying any attention. Maggie quickly stepped out of the way to let him pass. Her movement must have alerted him…

A Cloud Above Whiteville

When I told my mother we were adopting a baby from China, she said, "Honey, are you sure? People say such mean things." Not that I thought she was wrong, but I had no idea what Maggie would face in Whiteville--two white parents with white friends and relatives, living in white neighborhoods, attending mostly white…

Silver Lining

TV pundits assure us that every hardship--even a pandemic--has a silver lining. Eventually. For now at least, our household has settled in for the long haul because of the coronavirus. I know it's deadly, but every time they show another graphic of it, all I can see are the  squishy toys Maggie loved as a…

Old Couple’s Valentines

Face it. Once commercial enterprises latch onto a holiday, no one can live up to the expectations. If you didn't gift your sweetheart with jewelry, you failed. Roses count, as long as it was a dozen. A teddy bear bigger than your sofa? You're kidding yourself. Over 40 years ago, Cliff and I celebrated our…

Wedding Winds

I love winter's early darkness, whirling snowflakes, and the frosted stillness of a white field. Woolly sweaters are my friends. I tolerate spring and count the days until summer ends. But autumn's charms are not lost on me. In fact, a wedding this past autumn stays with me even now in a freezing Midwestern January.…

2019: Turtle Joy, Everyone

Turtles go mostly unnoticed. They aren't gorgeous or dramatic or cuddly.  Still, they win the race against the hotshot rabbit who peers back and, assuming he's won, naps with victory assured. The turtle trods along with eyes on the sunny horizon. Step by faithful step. Persistence, whatever the speed, wins. We persist, too. Whatever the…

Thanksgiving Finale

Every Thanksgiving my mother was up against a lot. Highly styled dinner tables glimmered on magazine covers. Newspaper articles debated the superior turkey brands. Recipes marched down her kitchen counter. A copper mold decision for cranberry sauce hung in the troubled air. She agonized through November, torching her perfectionism into raging flames. Gradually I understood…

Thanksgiving Confession

I have never roasted a turkey. Just the thought of trying it has terrified me throughout my adult life. Not that I blame my mother, but I was imprinted early with the belief that it was an ordeal. Buzzing alarm in the morning darkness. Muttering when the thawing wasn't complete. Thud-thumping as she wrestled stuffing…