The diary of a bemused Boomer
It’s dawning on me that Mother and I are trapped in a psychodrama neither of us remembers auditioning for. Day by day, our roles as parent and child are reversing. But we’re not sure of our new lines and are actors in the hands of a director who isn’t sure if they are directing aContinue reading “Gwyneth Paltrow helps Mother”
Mother is holding a glass jar of orange marmalade in her left hand while she lances a knife into the jars’ mouth with her right, nervously, as if she were extracting honey from a beehive. Her hands tremble so the knife ricochets back and forth against the glass as if she were playing a triangleContinue reading “Blue Suede Shoes”