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I Want My Mother Back

I want my mean, bitchy, drunk mother back. The mother who was depressed and melancholy, who said cruel things about my work and criticized my parenting, who undermined instructions to my kids by saying “You really don’t have to pay attention to her.” I want the mother back who invited herself to my first apartment and then pitched screaming fits in the streets of Boston. The woman who threatened to… Read More »I Want My Mother Back

Boomeranging Into An Empty Nest

I was extremely heartened to read in the New York Times that having a good and open relationship with your kids, one in which you speak frequently and they solicit your advice, is a positive thing. Not that I ever doubted that. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding, and the pudding that is my children — despite occasional high temperatures and other mishaps — have turned out… Read More »Boomeranging Into An Empty Nest

Alone, Again. Naturally.

From my desk, as I sit writing this, I can see the water: the Bull River out beyond a large marsh, the look of which changes depending on the tides. Off to my left is a small marina with a tiny cluster of sailboats and power boats; farther to the left still is the bridge to Tybee Island, the tip of which I can view out beyond the river. The… Read More »Alone, Again. Naturally.

Note: Call Doctor Re Memory & Knowledge Loss. Terrified.

There are post-it notes all over my mother’s room at the assisted living place where she has lived since being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in the summer of 2005. She loves post-it notes. She likes them in bright colors like hot pink and green. Some of them have her name on them: A Note From…. She has always like post-it notes—they used to accompany the many newspaper and magazine articles she… Read More »Note: Call Doctor Re Memory & Knowledge Loss. Terrified.