When My Mother Whispers

I hate it when my mother whispers. She never shares secrets about fairies or magic. Whispers from my mother’s mouth almost exclusively mean bad news.It always starts with a “come hither” motion, from her eyes or her hand. She pulls me down to a seat at the table, she draws me in with her eyes, […]

Read More
Untitled design (3)

A Writer Afraid of Writing

Dear Abby, or Minerva, or Whomever is heading up these lifestyle columns these days, I have to write this to you because that’s what whiny people who don’t really want to confront their problems do: they divert them, instead of facing them head-on. My Gram would call people like this, people like me, scaredy rats. […]

Read More
Protect Yo Heart

Here Is Something I Can’t Understand

If I died tomorrow, I could stand in the face of God and say that I’ve never demolished anything. But lying like that would probably buy me and one guest first class tickets to hell. It was Daddy who trained me to be a killer, a sharpshooter, a markswoman. It was he who taught me […]

Read More