Tag Archives: #hope

Changing Worlds

The cold, my old familiar friend, sweeps back. Carrying out a bucket of hot ashes from the woodstove in the early morning, I stand for a moment in the gusting wind. Is snow falling or merely blowing? Inside, the cats … Continue reading

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Sunday Rescue

I’m reading on the couch Sunday afternoon when my daughter calls from her cell phone. She’s walking on a nearby trail system and met a woman who lost her dog. The woman gave my daughter her cell phone number, in … Continue reading

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A Year Ago

…. A year ago, the date was looming near where I had that wretched dental procedure. On the 21st, as the oral surgeon brought a scalpel near my face, he said nicely, You might want to close your eyes for … Continue reading

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Wild

December: cold, a scattering of snow, the ice settling into the ground. In Hardwick, on impulse, I stop into a store and buy a string of white lights with wooden reindeer for my daughters. It’s Sunday morning, and hardly anyone … Continue reading

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Adequate Materials

When I was in labor with my first daughter, at some point I glanced at a clock and realized I was in trouble. That was the only rational moment I remember from that entire labor; everything else is nearly wordless … Continue reading

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Phone Talk

I’m on the phone at work, answering some standard questions, nothing serious, just information passing from me to a woman. She offers that she’s working at home — she’s employed by the Barre, Vermont, school system. Barre closed up their … Continue reading

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Rubber on the Road

By chance, I start reading a new novel — The Father Clause by Jonas Hassen Khemiri — and I’m back in those young motherhood days I thought would go on and on eternally — changing diapers, mashing peas, carrying little … Continue reading

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Lighting the Way

On our evening walk in the dark, we pass by a house where a couch, a love seat, and an ottoman have been sitting in the front yard for nearly two months now. Last night, in the rain, passing by … Continue reading

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Friday Run

Just before dusk, I’m running along the rail trail, where train tracks once lay, when a woman steps out of the brushy woods, puts her hand over her chest, and gasps. I’ve frightened her. She’s dressed in hunter’s orange and … Continue reading

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Pandemic Pause

When I was a young newlywed, I read Green Mountain Farm by Elliot Merrick — a nonfiction account of a Quaker family. At the very end, Merrick ends with a short section saying that World War II changed their lives, … Continue reading

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