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Archive for the ‘Featured’ Category
By Steve Meineke, on August 23rd, 2010
November 1994
Dear Summer,
Eighteen years ago I stood looking at you—fresh-born—through the big glass window in the hospital nursery, watching the nurses try to count your tiny toes. Minutes old, you were bright-red-screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs unbounded life, squirming and kicking in every direction—quite a challenge to those toe-counting nurses. How I wanted to reach through the window, to be closer to you as you celebrated your newfound freedom. From behind the glass, I breathed a promise: I would never stand in the way of your freedom. « Continue reading »
 1 person likes this post.
By author unknown, on January 25th, 2010
 When I was a kid, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work.
On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that biscuit and eat every bite! « Continue reading »
1 person likes this post.
By Laurie Esposito Harley, on August 21st, 2009
I’m above average. Instead of having 2.5 children, I’ve gone the extra mile and had a whole 3. When my first daughter was born, and I was given the sparkly new name of “Mom,” I found out how ridiculously difficult being a parent is. It’s the hardest job I’ve ever done… and I’ve been a waitress! But this mom gig is so much more fun than waitressing and the pay of love and kisses is worth much more than any $2.00 tip. « Continue reading »
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By taz tagore, on August 19th, 2009
Like coal miners, parents plunge deep into dark and untrammeled spaces, searching for nuggets of goodness and truth along the way. And sometimes, like coalminers, we get lost. We hit a dead end. And the canary chirping happily in it’s swinging cage, goes silent.
This summer, I lost my way as a parent. Between moving and leading a top-to-bottom renovation of our new apartment, between writing grant applications and taking care of legal issues related to my nonprofit, I took a few wrong turns, caught up in the To Do’s and Didn’t Do’s scratched onto my notepad. Thankfully I have not one, but two canaries on my shoulders. When they stopped tweeting, I knew it was time to pause and reevaluate. « Continue reading »
1 person likes this post.
By Maureen Day, on August 15th, 2009
It was a sweet and simple ceremony.
Perhaps it was the beauty of the day with its cool pre-summer breeze and sunny afternoon , but most likely it was the picking of the pretty yellow flowers in the backyard that prompted the sudden proposal. “Mom, let’s get married,” he said holding the big bunch of yellow beauties. A few days before, I had noticed the shock of yellow in the corner of our backyard that we refer to as “the swamp”. I knew it was some kind of weed, but I had no idea the magnitude of it until I was right up on it. It grew high and had coiled, thick, purplish vines with the sweetest little yellow flowers with orange centers. I had asked Riley about coming with me to cut the flowers and he happily agreed. We grabbed a scissors from the kitchen and meandered our way to the swamp avoiding doggy land mines to reach the mammoth weed. He didn’t know, nor did he care what it was, he was just as enamored with the yellow flowers as I was. And, I suppose, that is was prompted his desire to wed. So, there it was, actually the third proposal of my life (but that’s another whole story!) and I thought, do I decline? « Continue reading »
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By Jeff, on July 7th, 2009
She is sitting on my lap as we gaze into the night sky. This may be the last year she will be willing to do that. She’s growing up so fast and pretty soon snuggling with Daddy will be embarrassing rather than comforting. She lays her head against my chest and I smile. Above us, cascading explosions of light and color brighten the darkness. I glance down at her wonder filled face. She doesn’t notice me looking at her so I take a moment to drink in her innocent beauty. She is my little girl, my grown up baby. With every flash in the sky, pictures fill my mind of different times when I have looked at this precious face… « Continue reading »
By Taz, on June 21st, 2009
When I was in my twenties, my gaze was always focused on the big things—finding the “perfect” partner, the “to-die-for” job, the “huge” book deal, or getting into the “best” graduate school. Little things didn’t matter much; they were unnecessary distractions that I treated as rounding errors. I either ignored them or focused on what came before or after. Looking back, I can see that how deeply I was affected by films and operas. I was always waiting for the sweeping climax that would bring resolution, on a grand scale, to my life. I was young and eager to fit together the largest pieces of the puzzle of life, foolishly believing that the remaining bits didn’t matter. « Continue reading »
By JoyH, on June 5th, 2009
I was tempted to say, as usual, “Hurry up! Unhook your seat, let’s go! You’ll be late!” as we prepared to leave the car for Elijah’s gymnastics class. Truth was, we weren’t actually running late (surprising for the Harvey’s, I know!). I stood in the 14 degree weather at the open rear passenger door and watched him, wondering just what it was that caused no response from him, considering the lack of the usual repetative announcements regarding tardy arrival times by yours truly. « Continue reading »
By JoyH, on June 1st, 2009
Last week, my Eli, 4, set about filling a jar full of water on the front walk. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was going to catch a rainbow. He thought about it, and it was the first sunny day in what had seemed like weeks. He spent the better part of the day working toward his goal, occasionally squinting into the sky. « Continue reading »
By Taz, on May 27th, 2009
I’ve always fancied time travel. When I was younger, I wanted to travel into the future. I dreamed that life at 30 would be sophisticated; I would dab Coco Chanel on my wrists before stepping out of my New York City apartment for a glass of champagne with friends. Now I long to travel into the past—to revisit brief pockets of time when my life was insatiably good. If I had a time machine, I would set the clock back to my summer writing retreats or a handful of episodes in my life defined by a particularly poignant friendship or love affair. « Continue reading »
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