Posts Tagged ‘Dads’

My father was recently in the hospital. I stayed with him for a bit to help while he recovered. Meals, Windexing, finding matching socks, walking the cutie-pie Angle, his dog, and with his garden. I was also working from home, from my childhood home — using the kitchen table as my desk. In the same spot where I used to struggle with my homework. My mother encouraged me to finish, with a cigarette in one hand and a yellow pencil in the other. The coffee cup lukewarm. The days at […]

When I’m cooking spinach, I think of my father. Strange? Well, I was a skinny kid and pale, with dark, long hair. My father called me Olive Oyl back then! You know, Popeye’s leading lady.  I guess the tall feature didn’t matter to Dad. My father was right about the resemblance. I remember looking in the bathroom mirror. I had to sit cross-legged on the fake-wood countertop to see myself. I’d hop on the toilet to get up there, and I’d stare, thinking the skin under my eyes was translucent. […]

They say “you can take the girl outta Long Island but you can’t take the Long Island outta the girl”. In my case, this seems to be true. Summer is in full swing and my trips to Long Island have become more frequent. My skin color is like three shades darker, I’m saying the word “like” more, and my hot pink pedicured toes permanently live in my jewel-encrusted flip flops. My husband thinks I was spoiled growing up on Long Island. I guess the red flag went up when I […]