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Fridays with Dad

Every Friday at 5:15, I call to order Dad’s favorite fish fry. All I need to tell the hostess is my name and she knows: 1 fried cod, extra tarter, extra slaw to go. When I take it to Dad’s, I pour him an O’doul’s and we sit and talk and catch...

A Cat and a Career

Tomorrow morning I’ll sit in the chair looking out over the trees on the street below my bedroom window and think how I used to balance my books on its arms as I read and wrote because our cat would lay in my lap—stretched out, paws crossed, eyes closed and purring to...

Birthing Pains?

The inner stirrings of new life and pain woke me in the night and in a fog, I thought I was pregnant. I remembered the feeling, clearly, from all those years ago as I made my way to the bathroom. I knew it was Eastertide—a time of wonder and hope—but even in my...

Lunch at Dad’s

I called him this morning and his phone was turned off. I’ve told him a dozen times he doesn’t have to turn it off when it’s charging but he doesn’t listen. It makes me crazy when I can’t get through to him. He didn’t answer his landline...

Lunch at the Counter

My family is big on rituals. Growing up, it was the Meadow Inn on Friday nights, Solly’s Coffee Shop on Saturdays and Marc’s Big Boy on Sundays after church. We didn’t always go out to eat but when we did, that’s where we’d go. When Mom and Dad went on a Saturday...

Who Says You’re Getting Older?

There was a turning of the tide this past Sunday. It was a day I realized that trying too hard to be good can be bad. Dad had overslept and texted to tell me he’d be late picking me up for church but still wanted to try and make it. I could have offered to pick him up...

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