A Tall Girl's Adventures in a Tiny World

Bruce Springsteen is singing “Land of Hopes and Dreams” in my ears just now, the version from his Broadway album. And I am weeping. Again. Just sitting on my couch with eyes streaming while my children play video games, eat snacks, read books, chase the cats. They’ve become used to seeing Mom cry like this, out of nowhere, off and on weepy, seemingly for no reason. So they’re carrying on with their afternoon while I sit here sniffling to Spotify. I have no idea why the tears are so close to the surface lately, why they come at unexpected moments. Before you say it, no, I’m not pregnant. Nor am I sad. In fact, quite the opposite: I’m happy, I’m grateful, I’m overwhelmed with just how good my life is today.  But I’m also hyperaware of the fear and anger and anxiety and oppression that grips people in every corner of this country...this world. I feel it. My body sometimes vibrates with it. And the tears may just be a recentering mechanism. Crying, after all, is release. I’...

When was the last time you received a hand-written letter in the mail? I received one today, a card from my second-cousin with a note and a poem tucked inside. The sentiment was cheerful and full of love, the poem timeless and poignant, the smile it induced immediate. I studied her handwriting -- elegant printing on the poem page with a small hand-drawn heart, casual script on the card above her signature: Claudia Jane.  We are both named for my grandmother, Elizabeth Jane. I carry her first name, my cousin carries her middle name. I feel this connection instantly. Connected to my favorite woman, the one I miss desperately, through to another favorite woman, the one I'm re-discovering joyfully.  When Claudia spoke at her father's memorial last month, she talked about these "ties that bind in a good way" -- family connected through time and space, we drift apart then back together, carrying these things in common that we hadn't even realized. I barely knew Cl...

This is a week of bittersweet milestones, dates on which we may celebrate and grieve simultaneously. My mother, Carol, would have turned 67 this week. My mother-in-law, Kathleen, would have turned 75 just a few days later. We took one Mom's ashes to the sea 19 years ago; we'll take one Mom's ashes to the sea in a few weeks. We'll celebrate their legacies of love, family, resilience, and laughter; but we will always grieve the empty spaces that won't fill in. They've both gone too soon. Happy asked me recently why we take the remains of our loved ones to the ocean when they die. He and I were floating on boogie boards in the North Atlantic at the time, near a sheltered beach called Kettle Cove, a serene and lovely Maine-postcard beach. My first response was, "Because that's what they wanted."  He was quiet, plaintive, mulling it over. "But why?"  I thought of my mother, my grandmother and grandfather, so many childhood memorie...

Well, hello, Forty. I'm glad you're here. Really. I'm sure others don't accept your visit graciously. In fact I've heard of a few who run, or drink too much to try to live up to their younger ways, or simply just deny your presence. I've been waiting for you. And I have no reason to be upset to see you. It's a bummer that you just missed Twenty...she came and went so quickly. I tried to talk her into staying for just one more drink. Always running, that one You do look different than I'd anticipated, Forty. You don't eat as much as you used to -- and jeez, you eat a lot of greens! -- you exercise more...I really thought you'd be thinner. And I thought you'd have longer, tamer hair -- like maybe you'd finally figure out how to fix it so it looks, well, less poofy. On the flip side, I thought you'd have more gray in your hair...hmm, that's an interesting turn, isn't it?  I do see a few lines here and there on your fac...