There’s a butterfly scar on my left knee that I refer to as my war injury. It’s the legacy of a spectacular crash into a metal telephone pole support, while riding what my sisters and I fondly called “The War Bike.” The War Bike had been my mother’s childhood transportation in the years following World ...
Monthly Archives:
May 2013
I always wanted one of those chatty, gabby mothers, the ones who set out the warm cookies and milk after school, eagerly hovering on both elbows to hear all about the day’s crushes, heartbreak and gossip. I coveted the moms who begged to do their daughters make-up, twisted tresses into French braids and got excited about the latest elephant ...