This is my face

I was 40 before I had the courage, finally, to show my face. All of it, as it is. It’s something I had to learn from my daughters, and it started with the simplest question: “mommy, why do you do that?” Why re-color my skin with foundation and my lids with eyeshadow, why draw circlesContinue reading “This is my face”

On Piecework: Lucy

I wasn’t there for the carnage. I waited a minute to gauge the nature of the wailing, whether it was a perceived affront or a bloodletting. It didn’t stop, so I trekked upstairs. Both children were intact, but the china doll gifted by their great aunt wasn’t. She lay face down on the floor inContinue reading “On Piecework: Lucy”