Letter from Home | A collection of essays originally written for Flagstaff Live!

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Wait for it; Finding the spacious inside the restless

Wait for it; Finding the spacious inside the restless

Posted by on Jun 25, 2020

Queueing at the post office yesterday to send a package. Social distancing, masking. I joined the chorus of obliging customers, willing to take our turns. I felt patient and cooperative in my waiting. Video conferencing a week ago with my sibs to discuss our ailing mother. Four there, one late. We small talked and we waited. And then we waited some more. I...

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The crying game; Flying into a vulnerable reality

The crying game; Flying into a vulnerable reality

Posted by on May 14, 2020

“Laughing and crying, you know it’s the same release.” —Joni Mitchell I made my way back to the United States last Saturday after the completion of a disorienting spring semester at my university in Bulgaria. The notion of flying internationally unleashed trepidation, but my primal need to be near my ailing mother in Florida was the stronger force. As I...

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Tiny faces; I teach. I learn. I isolate. I yearn.

Tiny faces; I teach. I learn. I isolate. I yearn.

Posted by on Apr 2, 2020

My brother called last night just as I’d climbed under my covers. We traded stories about emotional numbness and our lapsed personal hygiene. I’ve spent the whole day wearing nothing but my underpants, he said. I countered with the admission that I hadn’t showered in five days. He told me that my nephew—his 25-year-old son living and working in New York...

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Eating cake in the bed; On the pleasures of being an aunt

Eating cake in the bed; On the pleasures of being an aunt

Posted by on Feb 27, 2020

When my niece Carmen and her brother Lucas were children, I often babysat and stayed with them while their parents went on business trips. I am very close to my brother and sister-in-law. We lived in the same neighborhood, and I saw those kids almost every day. At times I felt like a third parent. But I am not a parent; I am something far more delicious. I...

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A bird in the hand; And fewer in the skies

A bird in the hand; And fewer in the skies

Posted by on Jan 23, 2020

It was during my early adolescence when I saw Alfred Hitchcock’s 1963 film The Birds. Critics were mixed in their reception. I wasn’t. It terrified me. Before I watched the film, I’d thought of birds as benign and decorative. I saw them as accessories for trees and the sky. They looked good sitting on docks and they made nice sounds. And they fly, which is...

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