Becoming a widow leaves me with an extraordinary amount of time. The Before Time I…
Persistent Persimmons
It seemed like a good idea, some fifteen years ago or so. Plant a couple of persimmon trees, be patient, harvest the fruit. So I waited–patiently–long long past the five-year mark by which time I should have been seeing flowers. Nothing. Not a blossom, not...
Widow’s Weeds 5: The Grandkids Are All Right
Well, technically they’re his and not mine, but they are all I have. Anyway, I’ve had the full experience from diapers through adolescence to adulthood. An Old Joke There is an old joke I told students to explain why young artists reject the styles and aesthetic...
Widow’s Weeds 4: A Single Place Setting
Dining has changed from a social activity to little more than a chore. Granted, Dan’s appetite faltered considerably over the past year or two. As Covid threw a pall over all our lives, I had taken over food shopping as a defensive posture. Dan’s increasing fragility...
Widow’s Weeds 3: Heart’s Desire
Unless I want to be an Edie, Big or Little, in an ersatz-colonial Grey Gardens, I need to begin the process of emptying this house. We’ve been happy here. At least I think so. It is hard, indeed, to truly know what Dan was thinking about much of anything....