Monday, June 30, 2008


I guess it was disloyal when I showed him my support. He opened and reached and engaged before and after you awaited the engagement.

I don't know the answer. But I hope you find it soon.

Sunday, June 29, 2008


You are warmly witty. Friends follow for a taste of your exuberant energy and sometimes a succulent sun dried tomato spread. You draw out bent-over-pee-my-pants laughter. When you move I'll miss you.


I almost took today off, but look: I didn't. You know what that means? It means you have to leave a comment. Uh-huh. Does to. Mooooom...

Saturday, June 28, 2008


Haiku for you:

We met at eighteen
freshman initiation
before school started.

We lived together
and walked through the Boston streets
meeting the people

We sat and we wrote
rambling lines of poetry
colorful and new.

Friday, June 27, 2008


I think you are crazy, not in the "haha how silly" way, but in the "hold my children close so you won't make them eat Chef Boyardee" way. Though smiling, you never ever meet my eye.

Thursday, June 26, 2008


We met during your last Boston visit. Almost 2 decades later I imagine you across the ocean "precariously perched" on curiosity. It took time, but we popped the bubble of perceived perfection. You should call him.

Really, you should.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008


I think you skip school and smoke more than cigarettes. I think you're alone often and fall squarely into the "at risk" box. I think you'll get into life changing trouble. I pray that you won't.

Monday, June 23, 2008


By day you taught 5 year olds in my daughter's school. One night your husband discovered you in the darkness kissing a man and a woman. I hope your own daughter has strong sober role models.

Sunday, June 22, 2008


I sit outside stealing your wireless because ours is down. But I'll tell you when I see you and you'll laugh. You lend your things and offer help with practiced ease. A good and generous neighbor.

Saturday, June 21, 2008


We sang the Violent Femmes so loudly- and The Police. Odd pairing. We didn't fit in our skins so we were mean. Not usually to each other. We were close but now are not. It's okay.

Friday, June 20, 2008


Is it wrong to question your motives? You stand by cleaning up her messes and reformulating who you are. You've made your share of mess, both full of fault, it's hard to imagine happily ever after.

Thursday, June 19, 2008


Friend I've yet to touch, I drink your words.

You mourn your dead dad with painful eloquence and expose your vulnerability with grace.

We'll meet on the Cape and our kids will play at the beach.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


Dear friend, years pass between hugs and weeks morph to months without any contact. But my core knows that I can call you to give and get support. It's not enough. Separated, we can't really know.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Tangent: Consciousness

I feel like this place is for 365's now, but that leaves a space where I should be writing more that I'm just not. So, here it will be. Hodge-podge is fitting, no?

Remember the miracle of turning the water into wine? When Jesus told the servants to "fill the jars with water" the servants (without question) filled the jars to the brim.

And a friend has me thinking about what that means, what it can mean, to fill a jar to the brim. Because the jar isn't always a jar. Sometimes it's helping your sister or tucking in your son. Sometimes it's listening to a budding reader make sense of the letters. Or listening to the far off lyrics of your daughter's made up song of the day. Sometimes it's cooking dinner and calling your mom and making time to talk to the guy you married. Sometimes its completing a proposal or planning a trip. Sometimes it's a swim or a water balloon war. Sometimes its connecting with old friends and reaching out to new ones. And yes, sometimes I guess it must be laundry and bills and sweeping and folding and the monotonous tasks that make life smoother when it needs to be.

And what would change if I were doing those things that I do "to the brim?"

Am I the only one who needs constant reminders to live consciously and celebrate what I have?

Just thinking.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming.


No one deserves the pain you face. It started so long ago, not fitting right, not trying, not knowing how to try. I am so scared for you and for your family. I'm sorry. So sorry.

Monday, June 16, 2008


The boys in child care asked about your mustache and smiling you said someday they'd grow one, too. I wanted you to wax, so they would stop asking. You worked too long and saved too few.

Sunday, June 15, 2008


Dead dads are not much fun. Less today.

He was life and strength and devotion, so full of shit and laughter. He raised me to know what lies in the center.

Faith and Family, ever together.

36x365x27: Saturday's on Sunday

My husband tells me stories of respect and of passion. Of commitment and of the extreme sport of dedication. You write your 365 of goodness and positive influences. And sir, you have made him a collector.

Friday, June 13, 2008


Your generosity of time, energy, affection and gifts gave focus to a hollow time. You brought a ham dinner (with wine) for 20 to the ICU the night before dad died. After, you faded into black.

Thursday, June 12, 2008


A life juxtaposed by the mother you deeply want to be, and the reality of your troubled life. You need to hold your children far too close. I think you are paralyzed by fear of loneliness.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


At 14, I smoked and wore a pin that read "Make Love, not Smoke," not knowing what "make" meant. I pointed to it when you told me not to smoke. Silent dear friend of my dad.

(who lives in North Reading?)

Tuesday, June 10, 2008


You shared your family's recipe for rice and beans and your baby was sweet and happy. Her father hit you and you got pregnant again, but you didn't have that baby. I cried when you graduated.

Monday, June 09, 2008


You found your father dead in the car when you were 6. My mother said I was drawn to troubled kids. I was and you were. We talked for hours in the dark of the stairwell.

Sunday, June 08, 2008


I couldn't figure out how to let you go, so I held fast for far too long. Now, I Google you and seek some silly sign of who you became. I'd like to meet your wife.

Saturday, June 07, 2008


We leaned against the yellow walls in AP English. And you, with your wide comb over and subtle smarm sat among us. Teaching. I can't believe she fell for you, lived with you or loved you.

Thursday, June 05, 2008


I knew when I spoke to him over the bonfire in October that he was he and that you were you. Better together. I wept at your wedding. Watching him watching you. The past only ashes.


Smoking day care lady, playing favorites with the children. Criticism lies always in wait on your lips.

And yet you are kind and dependable with your neighbors: offering to care to tend to help.

An oxymoron.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

This Seems Perfectly Reasonable to Me.


I judge you: selfish, shallow, disloyal, dishonest, and mean. You took the love of my people and you shit on it. You are broken but I am sad and angry. I cannot forgive you yet. Prick.

Tuesday, June 03, 2008


Tired teacher taught for too many years. You seemed twice your age. Then I saw you with your grandchild at a concert and you were full of vim. I wonder when you started longing for retirement.

Monday, June 02, 2008


It was absolutely no surprise when you passed out during a party in 1993. As promised your friends shaved your head. 10ish years later you walked out of the closet and ran back to the army.

Sunday, June 01, 2008


You really did walk into the party like you were walking onto a yacht. Rock star in your mind, you played the harmonica and played the girls. Handsome and talented. Fun to watch but decidedly insincere.