Tag: Memoir

Lessons by Mrs. Crim

I used my brothers’ new crayons and wrote every letter I knew on our bare wood stairs. My mother screamed when she found it and blamed my older brothers. She did not accuse me because I wasn’t in school yet. My brothers denied involvement, pointed out clues and named their suspect. “Sharon did this.” The “S” was perfect, but the… Continue reading Lessons by Mrs. Crim

My Eclipse

When I was eight my class made pinhole cameras to see the eclipse. My teacher may have explained what an eclipse was, but if she did, I wasn’t paying attention. What caught my attention was her warning, “Do not look at the sun during the eclipse. It could blind you.”  But I wanted to become… Continue reading My Eclipse

The Gift

My father picked me up from the bus. I was too busy talking about semester finals and problems with my landlord to notice his silence. When we pulled up to the house, I knew something was wrong. No wreath on the door. No electrically lit candles in the windows. Inside there was nothing to show Christmas was… Continue reading The Gift

Visited

            My son and a friend went to Canada for a week-end workshop to contact  aliens. Before he left, Nathan asked me to not tell Grandpa Nesbit. I promised, but he didn’t have to ask. I would never tell my father, but I had my own reasons.              Nathan and I agree it is more logical to believe there are… Continue reading Visited

Assumptions

My mother was a housewife. She claimed it without pride or apology. She spent hours cleaning and cooking and received nothing in return, except for the annual Hallmark Mother’s Day card claiming we appreciated everything she did.  Once, and only once, she demanded acknowledgement. Every week she vacuumed the venetian blinds, but once a year… Continue reading Assumptions

My Father’s Names

I called him “Daddy” when he taught me to ride a bike, and baited my fishing hook because I heard the worm scream, and whisker-scratched me good night.  I still called him Daddy when he talked about his college track days and set up the high jump in the yard. I have my mother’s short legs instead of his long ones.… Continue reading My Father’s Names