When I was first married, I strived for sterility. I wanted a clean house with washed laundry—and as much ordered chaos as possible in a family busy with three boys. This sterility seeped into my sexual relationship with my husband. My motto was, “We can make love—if...read more
Every time I see a crumpled or folded up piece of tissue I think of Mom. She tucked them into at least one pocket of every article of clothing she wore and in the cushions of the furniture she sat in. They irritated me! Wet and shredded in the washing machine,...read more
“You look beautiful when you cry,” my mother said looking into my glistening brown eyes. I was no stranger to tears. I had experiences as a young girl that made crying come easy. Whenever I was hurt, afraid, even embarrassed, my face would contort against my will,...read more
“It’s NOT about aliens!” This is my adamant response to the film, Signs by M. Night Shyamalan. In fact, in each of Shyamalan’s films, Signs, The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, The Village, I have learned to pay attention to the underlying meanings, the personal, intimate...read more
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