…to get a surge of inner life or inner supply or unexpected sense of empowerment, to be afloat, to be out of yourself.”
– Seamus Heaney.
Category: Writing
For now, Portland Oregon
A short essay I wrote is up on Orion Magazine’s website.
“My husband wants land. He digs through websites, hoping to uncover a patch we could afford. I want it too but it hurts to see him look at places someone else will live on, or subdivide. It’s not our time, yet. We plant pennies in our bank account and watch them grow too slowly. In the meantime, we live in a condo in the city….”
I love The Place Where You Live feature; I’m glad they brought it back.
And I do love Portland, Oregon—even on days like this one.
Breakfast silence broken when a small bird hit the clear glass door. Quite the commotion.
Memoir in ‘E’
Earthworms and Earwigs. I was afraid to dig in the garden or nap in the grass.
Eavesdropping. I came down the stairs one night to get a glass of water and what I heard from beyond the door frightened me more.
Ebb tide. Carry me away.
Memoir in ‘E’
I never cared for the name Edna, and I still carry the unreasonableness of a child who appraises a person by the name assigned to them against their consent or knowledge at birth. Why, for example, couldn’t her parents (she was a lady in our church) have called her Effloresce which means to blossom, to flourish, which is not unlike rejuvenation, which is the lovely meaning of unlovely Edna (she was the first woman I ever saw play a guitar and she had the blackest hair).
Memoir in ‘D’
Daddy Longlegs.
“Dad!
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!
Get it out of here!”
Memoir in ‘C’
Cant (kant) n. 1. whining, singsong speech, esp. as used by beggars 2. the secret slang of beggars, thieves, etc; argot 3. insincere or almost meaningless talk used merely from convention or habit — to use cant, speak in cant — adj. of, or having the nature of, cant —
CAN’T (kant, känt) can not cannot can’t
I can’t
I can’t
I can’t
CAN I’m trying to say you more. My tongue trips on your consequences. First I need to learn to say – and mean – I deserve.
Memoir in ‘B’
Backwater.
Backslide.
Backhanded.
Backlash.
Backdown.
Backfire.
Backburner.
Backburner.
Backburner.
Backburner.
Backpack.
Backdoor.
Backward (never always never always never looking).
Backbone.
Memoir in ‘B’
Baby (bā′bē) 1. a very young child; infant 2. a person who behaves like an infant; helpless or timid person 3. a very young animal 4. the youngest or smallest in a group 5. [Slang] a) a girl or young woman b) any person or thing —
Memoir in ‘A’
Acacia: a family of thorny shrubs and trees
Ache: a continuous pain
Acquiesce: quickness of understanding
Adjust: to rearrange or alter to suit the circumstances
Adrift: drifting, floating
Amen: Amen