Spring will come again, people say. Yet I am heartsick. Nothing will happen when spring comes; That child will not come again. Nakahara Chuuya, “Spring Will Come Again” Note: the poem was written after the death of Chuuya’s first son, Fumiya, in November 1936
From a loving mother to her MVP. I miss you, baby. Dedicated to Michael Vincent Pugh, November 21, 2012-September 25, 2019. He is dead and gone lady. He is dead and gone. At his head a grass green turf. At his heels a stone --- William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5 Before sunset, they … Continue reading Before, After, Before
One of my online groups, "Hearts Through History", had this as a weekly topic. This is my entry. My maternal grandpa was the best. Funny, clever and always ready to help. He was an immigrant from Italy who left there old enough to remember bits about living there. He described the area around his home, … Continue reading “What did you most admire about your grandparents?”
I recently had an epiphany. 1> I’m definitely getting older, and 2> being a parent really restricts your enjoyment of popular music. You start to see stalkers where you once saw admirers. You see pushy potential abusers where you once saw ardent and determined wooers. Here's an example of what I mean: I was listening … Continue reading One of those, “you know you’re getting old when…” moments.
For the first time in probably a year, I bought a physical book - a real paperback. I purchased the book at a real bookstore, which I haven't been to in even longer. My more recent real-book purchases have been at displays at grocery stores and Walmart. I missed physical books terribly. They feel solid … Continue reading A Meeting with an Old Friend
Even at my age, I have dreams about missing school deadlines. I’m sure a psychiatrist would say I’m feeling that things are out of control, or there are other deadlines I’m stressing about. She’d probably be right. However, sometimes they are a godsend. The other night, I had a dream about an unfinished school project. … Continue reading Sometimes the Writing Comes to You
My son Michael is a special boy in more ways than one. He's sharp as a tack and has ingenuity coming out of his pores--especially when it comes to finding a way around rules and obstacles (especially those we set up to protect him or the house). He's also one of many children who require … Continue reading When “Participation Trophies” Matter
Night Owl Romance has a blog subject #pets. My entry launches May 17th. Come read Watson's Tale! The Hound of the Pughs
My guest blog is posting to Night Owl Romance on May 17th.
“Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower or a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten.” – Rupert Giles, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer: I Robot... You Jane” Sometimes, I miss my maternal grandparents' house in Chicagoland as much as I miss my grandparents. My Grandma Mary … Continue reading The Spot