Words as if They Were Daggers
There are times when words can feel just like daggers. They create a wound that is deep and hard. Although they don’t leave visible wounds, someplace deep inside they keep bleeding. Some remain unhealed and…
License for Composure
My name is Mother. Composed Mother. Special Agent “00 Don’t Get Angry” with a License for Composure. Cornflakes crunching on the floor, juice poured for the fifth time in a row, difficult negotiations, threats, arguments,…
Fictional Childbirth: The Birth of Julie
Julie was not born in a hospital. There were no contractions, no pushing, and no C-section. Julie was born simply in my head. In the beginning, she was a small cluster of images and single…