Jar of Hearts

The other day, I was looking at my mother not as her daughter, but just as a woman. I looked at her long and hard and wondered what made her marry when she did. As a woman, what were her expectations? Was she scared? And then she caught me looking at her, so I snapped... Continue Reading →


The grass was a light summer-green, and the front gate was open, white picket fence, shrubbery, a swing, and a tall stout tree. The open door waited for him each day. He’d return home, promptly place his coat on the sofa, yes, sofa; and walk through the house to the backyard to play with the... Continue Reading →


Like the creaky wheel of an old cart and a rickety rickshaw rideLike the sooty kettle on a black stoveand the shine in my blind mother's eye.Like the bullock that ploughs the fieldand the well that goes down deepLike the post office at the end of the laneand dried hay that lies on a heapLike... Continue Reading →

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