Martha

For thirteen years, starting in the mid-80s, I drove a tan-brown four-door, standard transmission 1983 Nissan Maxima named Martha. She had leather seats, an automatic sunroof and state-of-the-art voice prompts. “Key is in the ignition,” she’d say. “Thank you, Martha,”...

Communication

“Hey, Mom. I’m on my way to yoga,” my daughter Jessica said when we skyped last week. It was 6:45 Monday morning in Hong Kong and the same time on Sunday evening in Virginia, daylight savings time. “How’s the snow there? It’s pretty nice here, not too humid...

Shadows

“When my daughter was a teenager and going through a particularly difficult time, I asked her to take a walk one evening,” my Uncle George told me during our visit last summer. “I said to her, ‘Do you know what I don’t like in you? [Pause] It’s what I see in myself.’”...

On Marriage

This morning, Keith gets up first. He lets Heathcliff out for his ‘hurry up’ then Freya. From the comfort of bed, I hear her barking in the woods beyond the mountain road turn-around. I smell the coffee, which Keith sets up to brew by 5 every morning – we’re early...

New Year’s Do-Over

Smells of gingerbread and sugar cookies no longer waft from kitchens. Sweaters with reindeer flying across their chests tuck away in bureau drawers. Red, green and white decorations return to boxes and bags stored under basement stairs. The Christmas holiday has...

Vanaprastha Weightlifting Club

“Grunt it up, you old lady!” “I’ll show you, you old man!” Welcome to the Vanaprastha Weightlifting Club, membership two hearty, humorous souls. (Thank you to our son Alex for giving us these wonderful t-shirts!) Keith and I are gut-centered types. In terms of the...