I’ve been accumulating images of elders who I think rock in a Pinterest board. I’m just getting started with this project, but it occurs to me that my grandmother rocked. She was self-supporting at a time when women didn’t work, she worked hard at a job of her own devising, and she was plain awesome. Here’s to you, Grandma!
The award was given in the May/June 2016 issue of Writer’s Digest.
Gerri never says, “Bye.” She says, “Ciao.” Pretentious, don’t you think? Maggie says, “Bye Bye,” several times – isn’t once enough? Allison waves and says, “Laterz,” like she was still a teenager. Really, why can’t any of my friends just say, “Bye,” like a normal person – like me?
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The knee-high robot rolled up. It stopped beside me and said, “Hi, I noticed you’ve been standing in front of the laundry detergent for quite a while. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I found what I need. I’m just standing still for a minute. I don’t need anything.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, I’m always here to help. Have a nice day.” The robot rotated and rolled away. It made little musical sounds as it moved so people would see it coming and not trip over it.
Now I felt silly standing still. Shamed by a machine, I moved toward the automop section.
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Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert is must reading for any writer. Or any artist of any kind. This book made me feel as if my entire life was given validation. Reading it gave me the sense that I have been right about everything I’ve done, that my creative life wasn’t a mistake or a waste of time but an example of big magic.
All those unseen pages in the file cabinet. All those books that only sold a few copies. All those blog posts with 8 views. All part of Big Magic.
Just this once, just this time, I promised myself. I made myself the same promise each time I dialed the escort service. I both dialed and pleaded with God to help me stop dialing. It was destroying my life, my savings were gone, I lied to my family all the time. Make me stop.
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Next time I’ll stay calm.
Next time I’ll listen.
Next time I’ll be positive
Next time I’ll understand.
Next time I’ll know what to do.
Next time I’ll be smarter
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You never know the last time is the last time until it’s too late. You never think about what you’d say, what you’d do if this was the end and you’d never get another chance. Every day should be the last day, maybe people would be kinder to one another.
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I guess I was in second grade the first time I had a crush. It was on a boy with red hair and freckles. Now that I think about it, I had a crush on a different boy with red hair and freckles when I was in 7th grade. It’s a wonder I didn’t actually marry someone with red hair and freckles. But . . .
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She lived to argue. She pounced on every word to dispute, disagree, disprove. It was so tiresome. I couldn’t stand to be around her. But she was my mother. So I learned . . .
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