My grandmother’s hands are pale with slender fingers and arthritic joints that never stopped her from doing whatever she wanted despite some occasional pain and swelling. They looked exactly as I pictured mine would, in another fifty years or so,… Continue Reading
Mix all the ingredients together. What have I done? Why have I just invited the entire team to celebrate Kanelbullens Dag with me tomorrow? Seriously, who’s going to care about cinnamon buns? Ten minutes go by, twenty, and no one… Continue Reading
Anna drummed her fingers along the flour-covered counter and glanced at the old clock that hung on her wall. “Set a timer for 6:10,” she said. Timer set. How are you feeling today, Anna? “Just peachy,” she mumbled. That’s great!… Continue Reading
I first saw it on my way to work, shivering in a corner between my building and the next. It tracked me with big brown mournful eyes as I passed. I hesitated, but there was nothing I could do and… Continue Reading
The night before the first day of classes of my sophomore year at the old, ivy covered university on the Rhode Island coast, I sat on my bed trying to fight the panic attack I knew was coming. The humid,… Continue Reading
On a cold, snowy day in January, as an old song played on the radio, Joe, whose birthday was in September, had more trouble than usual getting ready for school. “Eat your breakfast, son,” his father said. “Today is, what,… Continue Reading
It started out with a scribble. As she dragged a blue crayon across a crumpled sheet of white paper. The messy scrawl was an abstract piece. But like all art, it was a mark from the artist — I am… Continue Reading
Really, life is all about our asses. We feed them, and fatten them, then try to slim them down again. We hire Swedes to massage them and lawyers to save them, and we act like them at work so we… Continue Reading
He wore an expensive suit and expensive-smelling cologne. Black or dark brown eyes took her in, took in her shopping cart. He didn’t have a cart. A bouquet of white daisies was cradled in his left arm near a handful… Continue Reading
“Why do we have to rotate on Labor and Delivery?” I say. “It has nothing to do with neurosurgery.” “Oh for God’s sake,” Sheila says. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and some poor pregnant woman will have a brain tumor, just… Continue Reading