I always wanted to leave. For as long as I can remember, I dreamed about living somewhere else. Home wasn’t an awful place to be. Inside were parents and siblings and toys and blankets and radios and televisions and food. I was not lacking for material things but I never felt satisfied. I wanted adventure,…
Once when I was in the fifth grade, I was a complete asshole – by accident. In the way many soon-to-be middle schoolers (and youngest of five children) can behave, I am sometimes obnoxious and attention seeking. Generally, I try to stay out of my parent’s hair and spend as much time outside as possible. …
“Mom, don’t freak out but…” Over the years, I have come to appreciate this effort Jackson makes to calm me before delivering bad news. “…I fell. And I think it’s bad. There’s a woman here who is a nurse and said I need to go to the ER. Where are you?” Less than five minutes…
I am sitting in a plastic orange chair, fit for a six-year-old. My first grade class is seated in a circle because it is almost time for show and tell, which is my favorite part of the morning. It is my turn today and I am bursting with excitement. As the last of five children,…
Most of my life, my father was a traveling salesman, working for supermarket distributors and building his own business on the side. He was busy – always on the phone or planning his next trip to some small town with an A&P or Shop n’ Save. He never seemed tired to me, though. For me,…
Recently, my son Jackson turned twenty two but thanks to the current pandemic and the fact that we live on different coasts, I haven’t seen him since January 3rd in the Hong Kong airport. I have an unapologetic, wild love for Jackson. We have always been deeply connected souls. I understand that not everyone has…
Short, raw, off the cuff… This is my Mom. She was a babe back in 1950, right? She’s 88 years old now and has no big health issues (except a bad cancer diagnosis last year, which she miraculously continues to keep at bay.) She’s been a mother to five, a grandmother to ten, and a…
Over Christmas break in 1986, I was laying on my bedroom floor, listening to New Order’s “Shellshock,” and sobbing. Heaving melodramatic sobs. The kind that prompted my sister to yell from the kitchen, “Stop being so dramatic!” I felt my tears were warranted as my boyfriend Laurent* had just informed me that he was in…
Read more 50 Stories, Week 6: My virginity, a break-up, and my BFF.
I was frightened. Ten seconds earlier, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be standing in my towel, hair dripping wet on the floor, defending myself to a couple of officers. There’s nothing quite like having San Francisco Police Department’s finest on your doorstep. Jackson had been having a tough time falling asleep and was up…
It is 1981, I am eleven years old and holding a photograph. It is about four by four inches square, glossy, with 1969 written along the white rim. I found it in a box of photos I’d never seen before, in a storage area of the garage I’d never combed through before. I’m doing research…
