Month: April, 2014

When I Run

I’ve never been much of a runner; or really, any type of athlete.  I am more of a sit-on-the-couch and read-a-book type. Lazy, you might say. Yet, every once in a while a person has to run.

Leaving work yesterday I had one minute to catch the bus. So I packed up and ran.  As I was running down the sidewalk I was very, very careful. All I could think was, “If I fall it’s a disaster,” broken bones, crutches.  I’m not young anymore. I assume thoughts like these will only become more frequent as the years go by. Ugh.


Creative Parenting

“Dreams always turn out the opposite.”

These were the words my mother said when I told her I’d had a nightmare. Just this morning I realized that she made it up!! I never thought she’d lie to me and I’m certain that she didn’t consider it a lie. She was doing what mothers do—saving me from worry and fear. It worked. I would immediately relax, knowing my bad dream could never come true. Momie had said as much. She made me safe.

Many times my Mom said that she wasn’t creative, she lacked imagination. That’s not true at all.

More Tales From the Bus


This morning the lady’s voice, the one that tells the upcoming stops, was a bit ahead of where the bus actually was. Consequently, a passenger pulled the chord at the right announcement, but the wrong stop. She quickly corrected and called out, “Next stop, please.”

One afternoon I was riding the bus home and the same situation occurred. I heard the lady say, “Connecticut Avenue” and I pulled the chord. Turn out, we were at Broad Branch Road. The bus stopped. Everyone looked at me. Oops! I concentrated on my phone, not looking up. I got off at Connecticut Avenue.

The Bus–Part Two

I get funny looks from students when they see me on the bus or at the bus stop. In my town, riding the bus is generally not a middle-class adult thing to do. I’ve come to appreciate it, however,

Most people on my route greet the driver as they get on—even the kids. In general, the drivers are friendly and kind. Most riders say thank you as they alight. The drivers care for the elderly and infirm.

My experience taking the bus is a lot different than I expected it would be. Nicer. More human. Easier than I thought.

An Anniversary Reflection

“a poignant story of a love affair that ends in tragedy”

 I copied those words from the on-line dictionary definition for the word poignant. April 16th is my wedding anniversary. It’s a big day in my life and it feels weird that I can’t mark it with the other person for whom it held the most meaning. We had witnesses, but when I think of the day we married, I mostly think of the two of us.

It’s hard to explain to people how one continues to feel married after the death of your spouse. My ring became more important after; it was a symbol, to me, of what was missing.

On Riding the Bus


Even on the coldest day I have not hated riding the bus. I didn’t love it that day I foolishly wore a skirt out into temps that were down in the teens—but I didn’t despise it, either.

Let me say up front that my bus ride is pretty easy. It’s short, for one thing. No traffic. Not very crowded, so I get a seat. The people are mostly nice or simply non-descript.

I kind of love riding the bus. It gives me time to think, to write. The bus shows me all kinds of people, all kinds of behavior.


This seems to me an objective truth: the number one job of a parent is to accept and love their child for who they are. That’s all, simple acceptance of your offspring as they come into the world.

You’d be surprised at the number of parents out there who believe they can make their child into something.

“If you study philosophy, I am not paying for college.”

“I won’t allow you to marry that person!”

“You think you’re gay? Why, that’s ridiculous; it’s just a phase.”

How terrible to not be fully loved by those who should love you most.

Poster Child

“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t, it never was.”

That sappy sentiment was a popular poster when I was in high school—accompanied by a bird and a sunset, of course. I had one.

Today I was ruminating on how hard it is to admit that you can’t be everything to your loved ones. In the past, admitting that I could not provide something—guidance, help, advice—to someone I love, and sending them elsewhere for it, has been difficult and sometimes painful. Yet, I’ve known it’s the right thing to do and we’ve all been the better for it. I’ll call myself brave, if that’s okay with you.