Broken Heart Healing

My five-year-old fingers pulled the red crayon from the box. I placed it in the middle of the paper, made a curving line upward and around to a diagonal line downward. I came back to the dot in the center and made a symmetrical figure, a picture of a perfect heart. My heart was created…

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Unexpected

In the night, when I return to bed after a bathroom trip (thank you, menopause) my husband will often turn and touch my hair before we both go back to sleep. And if he returns from a trip, he adjusts my bed covers. I smile. There are two pieces of my life I usually don’t…

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True Love

Growing up in a working-class neighborhood in Detroit during the 1950’s and 60’s, one couple stood out as being different from the rest of us and to my mind, they were very exotic. Unlike our other neighbors, this couple had no children and the woman worked in an office downtown. The man was Hollywood handsome…

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Graduate

I lay on the grassy hill, my legs bent up behind me, my chin resting on my hands. The voice of my friend on the phone is so young. Much younger than her years. We are chatting about current events that trigger young places in her lovely yet trauma-filled life. I’m listening carefully. I want…

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Well-Armored

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal….Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket,…

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The Wounded Warrior

Write, she says, you have to keep writing. To write is to go to war. Go to war with who I am and who I was and who I’m supposed to be. But who am I supposed to be? Am I supposed to be anyone or am I supposed to be me? In a resistance…

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Guard your heart. Love never fails.

We were having friends over for lunch and each room looked pleasing. A few days earlier an interior decorator came and one of the things she said that our home needed was more texture (throws and pillows), height (stacking objects and books on coffee tables) and more interesting bookshelves. Last night we began watching the…

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He Calls Her Ahava 

You call her a dirty slut You whisper “cheap whore” as she walks by Words echo in the long hallway of a high school Words echo in the tender spirit of a 16 year old girl

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Stage Four Racism and the Truth about Love

He loves me between his smiles and contagious giggles. The brown guy in front of me wrinkles his nose and anger passes through his eyes, the anger he’s absorbed all day. I squeeze his arm. He flinches. How did I forget he cannot bear the gentle touch I offer after a long day? I’ve encouraged…

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Dancing Again

My memory holds pockets of a vibrant, life-giving little girl who could make the world smile. If I could describe her in words, I would chose provocative sounding words like full of color, vibrancy, and ecstasy. A child fully in her body, aware of her power, and lost in her dreams. This little girl I…

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