She used the bathroom, running the tap noisily and disturbing the towels. She knew immediately that her mother had bought these towels — cream, a ridiculous color for towels — and monogrammed — also r...
On my way home from the junior high, I would sometimes stop at the edge of our property and watch my mother ride the ride-on mower, looping in and out among the pine trees, and I could remember then h...
Learn a language of another country and then you can go to that country: a place where the problems of your family will not follow. A language they do not speak.
It was Buckley, as my father and sister joined the group and listened to Grandma Lynn’s countless toasts, who saw me. He saw me standing under the rustic colonial clock and stared. He was drinking cha...
His love for my mother wasn't about looking back and loving something that would never change. It was about loving my mother for everything -- for her brokenness and her fleeing, for her being there r...
He was beginning to understand: You were treated special and, later, something horrible would be told to you.
Memory could save, that it had power, that it was often the only recourse of the powerless, the oppressed, or the brutalized.