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