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HuffPost •

I Lost Touch With My Childhood Best Friend. 20 Years Later, Her Mom Made Me An Offer That Caught Me Off Guard.

That afternoon at the Monopoly board was in 1978. There was an awesome rhythm to our lives then. It was the middle of a summer filled with Marco Polo, bike rides to Circle K, playing Spit, and trying out the newest gadget on the block ― the microwave. Regina and I took turns spending the night at each other’s houses, oblivious to the idea that accidents could happen and that days that were entirely predictable could, in an afternoon, explode into shards.

That afternoon at the Monopoly board was...
HuffPost •

My 5-Year-Old Daughter Told Me She Wanted To Take Pole Dancing Lessons. Here's What I Told Her.

Bending over the hot dryer, I spot a corner of an old snapshot of her and her brother that hides almost out of view under the appliance. I inch it out with my big toe. Joseph’s staring at the camera, a look of sheer dread and confusion on his face, as if the world could end in a moment. In contrast, Amelia is popping into the picture behind him, bright brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and wide, jazz fingers spread apart at each knuckle. I stifle a chuckle as I remember this day over a decade...
Notre Dame Magazine •

Running Away From Home | Notre Dame Magazine | University of Notre Dame

I know you’re ready.
But me?
I’m restless. Shiftless. Standing still. Crying at odd times. Lying down. Getting up. Overeating. Wandering the halls. Forgetting why I came into the kitchen. Exhausted from doing nothing but feeling everything.
Whose idea was this? That I love you so completely, only to let you go?
I think of those early years — when we used to skip home after dropping your siblings off at school. I’d lift you in the air and beam, “What time is it?”
“Mama-Meals time!” we’d yell, not...
Notre Dame Magazine •

Blades of Grass | Notre Dame Magazine | University of Notre Dame

A principal’s office — a portable blue building with chipping paint and cracked gutters — sits a half-mile from the dirt road. It’s summer 2002, and the campus is empty, giving me and my 30-year-old brain time to untangle ideas and make a list. I don’t know where to start. I’ve taught first grade here for a year because I’d come home from the Peace Corps and needed a job. Now?
“You’re in charge,” the veteran principal extraordinaire said yesterday on her way out the door. “We’ve added a 7th and...
Notre Dame Magazine •

At Most Myself | Notre Dame Magazine | University of Notre Dame

Illustration by Elissa Turnbull

I’m on my knees in the kitchen with a bucket, suds, sponge and rags, cleaning my bike. Running my damp rag over the handlebars, I dig at grit in small crevices where joints meet. Wipe my eyes with the back of my wrist. Give up and let my tears splash on the floor for the dog to lick up. Laugh at how life is just like that.
I remember the first mountain bike race I ever watched. I was 20 years old, camping with a boyfriend. We set up our tents...
Notre Dame Magazine •

Leaving | Notre Dame Magazine | University of Notre Dame

A mother says farewell to her son as he embarks on his college journey.

Photo by Matt Cashore ’94

Dear Son,
You leave for college today, and I don’t want you to leave without telling you some things I wish I had said more often.
Thank you for always putting the lid down, and for always saying “thanks.” For always hugging your grandma, and for the countless dishes you’ve done and trash bags you’ve taken out.
Thank you for making the most of bei...
[ a literary magazine ] •

drip

Thank You, Space by Kerith MickelsonShould I attack my husband?Nah. I can spend a few moments with myself in this space--behind the locked door--before I take a shower and get ready for bed. Sophie’s away at college, and there’s a mirror that rests against the wall, and I’m not wearing much. My fingers tickle along the bottom edge of my belly button and flirt with the loose elastic waistband of my favorite sweatpants. They dip in. Find no undies, only softness. I allow my middle finger to rest o...
Her View From Home •

This Is My Second Half Too - Her View From Home

Part-time teacher by day, security guard at my daughter Amelia’s basketball games by night. It’s extra cash to take Tai Chi classes, and what better place to practice a still mind than a loud gym? 
The familiar rhythm of bouncing balls vibrates my folding chair. I glance at the clock, eight minutes for the quarter. I would settle in to watch, but I have this itch like an old mosquito bite. 
Write the story. 
I rub my neck and rifle around for a pen, urgency builds in my gut. The clock impatientl...
Her View From Home •

Grab Hold of the Courage to Speak Up - Her View From Home

Michelle jogs back early through the classroom door, winning the ACT scavenger hunt competition for seventh hour. I hand her a Capri Sun, and she acts like it’s a medal. This isn’t like her—serious Michelle never gets excited. But today she seems, dare I say, happy. Which is sadly weird for most gen-ed English juniors in high school. She smiles at her phone screen as she sucks the Capri Sun dry. 
From her desk in the empty classroom, she blurts, “I got a prom dress this weekend. It’s so pretty.”...