Day of the Frying Pan
Whenever my siblings mention the frying pan incident, I laugh along with them, even though I find it tragic and and far from funny.
Whenever my siblings mention the frying pan incident, I laugh along with them, even though I find it tragic and and far from funny.
A Spiny Orb Weaver spider has taken up residence in the potted plants next to my back door. It is an odd looking creature…
“Aargh, these weeds. And I was just here,” Shifrah Fogel Bernstein thought, as she got to her knees to yank out the invaders, the botanical equivalents…
I am sitting on an exercise bike, slowly moving my feet, circling, circling, pushing just enough to barely move the pedals. It is exhausting.
“Teacher. Nurse. Secretary. Three acceptable careers for a young woman when my mother was a girl. I became a high-powered corporate lawyer.”
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The mind-numbing atrocities at home and abroad dare me to respond. It’s as if world events conspired to belittle me, taunting me to try to make sense of bloodbaths…
Today is the first day of my last period. I know because in three weeks, when my body prepares to do it again, I will run into a man with a knife.
A Jeep has sat in front of our house for a month, its red boxy body catching my eye every time I walk outside. Whoever left it, placed it equal distance…