This is a true story about the bone-breaking power of words. At least if what my sister told me about her friend Jan is true. I’ve met Jan and I think it is. Jan was a 40-something blonde on her way home from an event in the city. She was lost in thought when roused…
Pat thought what you wrote was a little passive-aggressive, a mutual friend relayed, her eyebrows raised. The charge caught me off-guard and I winced. I’d never thought of myself that way- as a sort of silent and brooding, wounded-then-wounding type. Then again, sometimes we are blind. So I raced off to re-read that post, with…
He can put on his own pillowcases, I fumed, fumbling to fit my own maroon pillowcase over bulging queen-sized bulk. And if anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar… Oh! but his words hurt me so, I said in my head as I slammed two clean cases-as hard as fabric can…
Mom, that sounds like you and Dad arguing, ya’ know? So interjected seven-year-old Gabe, as I wrote this very post yesterday. In the background, a radio talk show host was arguing with a caller. I wish I could say his comment was scripted. In May I posted an introduction to Mademoiselle Meekness. I offered some reasons…