Dear Eavan Boland

I pitched something to Lit Hub and they took it. A dream. But bittersweet.  Because it’s for Eavan Boland. It’s about motherhood, and middle age, and passion and confusion and regret.  So it’s also for all mothers who have art stirring, and waiting, inside them. Go be you. I know it feels hard. But do…

I Refuse. And I Nurture, Too.

The seed of this piece of writing is fatigue.The seed of this piece of writing is anger.The seed of this piece of writing is curl-up-in-a-ball-and-remember-that-shitty-Christian-pregnancy-clinic-that-showed-you-oversized-photos-of-fetuses-and-cry-but-no!-there’s-so-much-work-to-do-plus-your-kids-need-you-and-so-do-other-people-too. Right now I have three pieces of work to do, in front of me–One is a book review about British concentration camps during famine, plague, and war in India and…

Standing in His Shoes

My grandfather Robert was a large man, in many ways. He drank Coca-Cola, smoked too much, adored candy, ate liverwurst sandwiches with potato chips on top. He died of emphysema when I was in high school, before I got to the age when I could have straight-up conversations with him about the world. He was…