Tag: Childhood

I don’t want to write about the pandemic, so you get this instead.

I shift closer to the fire, toss on a log, make the sparks fly. It’s my night to sit up with the children that can’t sleep and I’m damned if I’ll do it cold. I look around the circle at their pale faces made… Continue Reading “I don’t want to write about the pandemic, so you get this instead.”

Breathing the Past

I don’t know where the old tin came from. Maybe it held cookies once upon a time, a gift to my parents. I suspect it was found in the old house when they first moved in. (A lot of things were left behind by… Continue Reading “Breathing the Past”

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”

So begins the gothic novel Rebecca, written in 1938 by Dame Daphne du Maurier. My own version might begin, “Last night I dreamt of the house in Clifton Park.” The old farmhouse on Plant Road wasn’t much to look at when my parents purchased… Continue Reading ““Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.””

A Hill Runs Through It

A certain¬†hill looms large in my memories, although it wasn’t particularly large itself. The yard behind the house in Clifton Park, NY where I grew up (we had yards back then, rather than manicured lawns)¬†was wide enough to contain a swing-set and a clothesline… Continue Reading “A Hill Runs Through It”