My mom's on my mind today. Probably like a lot of people who've lost their parents. Thanksgiving is especially reminiscent of her because it was often her birthday, which is November 25. The smell of onions and celery and pepper sauteing at 8 a.m. brings to mind my mom, in her floor-length purple "dashiki" robe,... Continue Reading →
My paying gig as front-desk customer service at a community arts center means I get to talk to a lot of people. Some people are signing up for classes with Portland Parks, some are visiting our art gallery, some are looking for something else altogether. What I do every day is sorting out what people... Continue Reading →
There hasn't been an update about my daughter for a while, because she's been off at school being a student. That's unremarkable except in the sense that there were doctors who didn't think she'd be strong enough to hold a pencil, and she's about to finish her Bachelor's, but whatever. She's a person who's in... Continue Reading →
Every day, we went to The Sands restaurant in town, where she was friendly with the owners Oli and his wife, and we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and I played PacMan. We went to farmer's markets and thrift stores, the vinyl seats of her enormous white car hot on the backs of my legs.
Packing is interrupted by the discovery -- once again -- of things from my life, or my kids' lives. We've only lived in this location five years, and our belongings are dotted with pieces of history. This vase was given to me when one of my children was born. The doctor who delivered my babies... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 