Chorus of Blue

Where the Hell are all the Forks? or Parenthood Retirement & Other Pipe Dreams

Posted by in Articles & Rants, Motherhood Project, Uncategorized, Writing

I know they say that, as children grow up and leave, become independent and lead lives of their own, you’ll miss them. The house grows quiet and lonely and you call day after day looking to find your place in their lives. Wanting to be needed and necessary, yearning to kiss the booboos away and solve all their woes with some great parental wisdom acquired through years of suffering and experience. I know they say all that. But I don’t believe it. Not entirely, at least.

There Was a Moment Today

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Prose, Writing

There was a moment today when, in the sheer misery that is my own strep throat, body aches and pounding headache, my toddler found herself exhausted, flustered and demanding a cookie (this is the nice way to describe an all out fit). She shrieked and cried and I promptly laid her atop me and sang the only song that calms her. Sure, my tonsils raged in protest, my body ached against the weight of her, but it felt so good to be the one she needed, to be able to…read more


Playing with Blocks

Posted by in Articles & Rants, Motherhood Project, Prose, Writing

My toddler is pulling me from my chair, she wants me to build a castle. I want to finish my work. She pulls me with all the force her two-year old arms can muster and I give in and get up… like I always do. We sit and gather wooden blocks. Stacking them, one by one, in a box configuration, she picks up each one and says, “I want you to put this one, mommy!” So I take the block and place it ‘right there,’ as instructed. I’m trying to…read more

Stepmommy or Stepmonster? Part I

Posted by in Articles & Rants, Motherhood Project, Writing

If a woman came to me and said there is man whom she is seriously interested in, but he has young children of his own who live with him full-time, and this woman also has children of her own, who, should she and this man marry, would also be living with them full-time, if a woman came to me and wanted to know my advice in such a predicament, it would be very simple and quite succinct. Run. Like. Hell. Oh. Dear. That’s not the response you expected? *clutches pearls*…read more

Quantum Mirage

Posted by in Poetry, Writing

There,         in the ellipse of our potential love         all of my energies condensed—         trailing along the ring of atoms         binding us together. And somewhere upon the substrate—         my path, an ion tale fading into         cobalt blue, went searching. Springing about a web of want,         probing for the phantom image         of your heart. Then here,         electrons splitting through space         quantum chaos, and you         in the distance,                                                      laughing.

My Daughter Comes In

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Writing

My daughter comes in and hugs me I cried earlier today But she wasn’t here I wonder what she can sense Then I wonder about her motives We cuddle as I type Her small hand gripping my arm Knee balanced carefully upon my chair “I love you so much, mommy…     I dig, what is she harping for?     A drink of my iced tea?     Permission to bake something?     The ‘go-ahead’ to take out her paints? …and I’m listening, I know you think no one is, but I am.” My heart flutters….read more

I Smile Like the Lonely Sun

Posted by in Poetry, Writing

I smile like the lonely sun You do not know Rays of joy shimmering out Dancing on the waters of your heart And I radiate: reflect me! reflect me! reflect me! Arms outstretched What do you hear? I smile like the lonely sun You do not know I burn to make your cheeks grow bright In the coolness of a lunar glow The vast space of unsaid words the insufferable dark matter of our thoughts I smile like the lonely sun You do not know. For SDW <3/9/2010>


Posted by in Poetry, Writing

I’m hurting and Im low, so I type, erase, type, erase. Sometimes a status is an outlet, sometimes your undoing. Sometimes there’s no one else to hear you, no one really listening, so you shout it from the rooftops so that you don’t have to jump. Today, I thought of cutters. People who have to slip a blade across their flesh for relief. The way they must feel the pain rising up out of their bodies like a noxious gas, the sigh of release. And this is an age of…read more